Klacha Por'sen
by WikedFae
Summary: Fear has held him back, anger has driven her forward. A story of abandonment and growth between two souls through the only connection they have: emotion. Chapter 20 is up!  7/13/11  *ducks for cover from projectiles*
1. Prologue

**Klacha Por'sen **by WikedFae

_Summary_: Fear has held him back, anger has driven her forward. A story of abandonment and growth between two souls through the only connection they have: emotion.

_Disclaimer_: The playground actually belongs to Mr. Roddenberry down the street. I'm just here to take advantage of the empty swing set. And maybe the sandbox. The characterizations belong to the genius interpretations of Nimoy, Nichols, Quinto, and Saldana. I only claim peripheral characters.

_Dedication_: To my other half, for showing me love where I thought none existed.

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_Author's Note_: I will try to provide English translations for any Vulcan used in this story. (Source: Vulcan Language Dictionary) To start, _Klacha Por'sen_ roughly translates into "locked emotion". Also to any die-hard Trekkies/Trekkers, I apologize. There are instances in this story where I will start mixing technology from the Next Generation time into this temporal setting. I figure that with all the time travel happening lately, things are bound to crop up when they're not supposed to.

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**Prologue:**

A gentle vibration accompanied the onslaught of music pumping through the cushioned buds secured in Uhura's ears. She could just feel the brief buzzing near her earlobe brought on by the overloaded bass; the treble wasn't high enough, but at this point she couldn't have cared less. This wasn't music for enjoyment. This was music for motivation with its pulse forcing her feet to tattoo a matching beat into the rough terrain beneath her. This was music for endurance as she furiously clambered her way up the rocky slopes. This was music at its baser instinctual level, the rhythms bringing out reactionary emotions. No forethought was required here, no inner censor or delicate translation...and Uhura reveled in this rare reality.

Trees became blurs as her eyes bored into the path before her and obstacles were neatly cleared as she began to move through the agile motions of a most unusual routine. Her breathing grew harsher, her heart beating in time with the music's signature. She could feel her mind hurtling towards an auditory event horizon--just a minute more and the pull of this harmonizing abstraction would effectively steal analytical reason from her person.

_"Just a few more bars...just a few more bars..._" This brief mantra gradually ensnared itself with the instrumental jungle already established in her brain. It melded perfectly with the beat, getting louder with each successive repetition, fraying the edges of rational thought. _"Just one more--"_

Rounding a bend, she skidded to a sudden halt, dust pluming upwards from her feet in immense clouds. She stood frozen as the dirt settled, all the while staring at the stoic figure positioned calmly at the open exit of the holodeck.

The first thing she became aware of was the sheen of perspiration clinging desperately to her delicate complexion. Its essence laced the air around her mouth and she could feel the saltiness creeping along her tongue as her breathing hitched in short puffs. The next thing she noticed was how her mind was oddly blank; a gentle humming established itself firmly between her ears and her vision clouded over in a strange haze. Gazing across the small clearing, she realized, belatedly, that the figure was speaking.

Time warped before her as she was pulled back into reality. Shaking herself and blinking furiously, she pulled the earbuds out, promptly startled by how loud her music really was. A flush tinted her cheeks and shock threatened to render her mute; however, she managed to recover and call out, "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you." She shrugged apologetically, pointedly holding out the earbuds in explanation. She hoped he couldn't see how her fingers had begun to shake.

"Yes, it would seem those decibels would be more fitting shattering glass." Five years prior, a comment like that from him would have elicited a giggle from her, but now, it only served to cause her pain as it reminded her how well she still knew him—enough to see the endearing perk of the ears that accompanied the remark. Five years had not been long enough to purge him from her thoughts, her memories...her dreams. Five years had only taught her how to bury the pain, exaggerate happiness, and falsify light-heartedness. The past five years were why she needed these early hours to lose control and allow this rampage of emotions.

Without the dictating reigns of logic, Uhura could only watch in apprehension as the figure approached directly, all the while her breath catching in her throat. She wasn't ready...not yet. This couldn't happen now. She needed more time! But her clock had run out and within seconds an impassive Spock stood before her.


	2. 1: Tminus Five Years

**Klacha Por'sen **by WikedFae

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**Chapter One: T-minus Five (Years)**

The new colony awaited him. An uninhabited Class M planet, newly designated Arus-zal, was located just within the Alpha quadrant. Three small satellite moons revolved around this desolate orb; a single star, coming of age, provided ample opportunity for colonial growth. The planet itself would be suitable for Vulcan physiology, although agriculture would have to begin indoors until larger plots of land could be terra-formed. It was a logical choice for a new beginning. But at the moment, Spock did not care for impeccable logic.

His human half was struggling, banging against the bars his other half had so thoroughly constructed. This was the most arduous emotional battle he had ever fought and it was made only more difficult, because the opposing forces reflected conflicting interests instead of the usual inconvenient interjection of emotional back-chat. Throughout his life emotions such as anger, frustration, sadness, had always been squashed below...but now, logic was facing an irrational _request_ from emotion. For the first time, Spock was realizing how emotion had its own brand of logic. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that it did not like to relinquish hold of its rationality, either.

He could not pretend to be deaf to his own demands. Well, the demands of one of his halves. Specifics weren't important. Apparently what was important, though, was that his emotional side was screaming to stay on the _Enterprise_. To abandon Vulcan life. To relinquish his duty to his race. To remain with Nyota.

It made no logical sense.

The chasm he regularly shoved his emotions into was disrupted, like a great spire was rising from the depths—a last attempt to break free and be recognized. Viciously, he squelched it down, beating it into submission with half-hearted convictions of reality. He would fulfill his duty to his people. He _must_. His human half could only watch and nurse its wounds as Spock made his final decision.

----

Heavy footfalls accompanied him down the halls towards her quarters—the only indication that his human side was disgruntled at being ignored. A façade of calm blanketed his expression as he stepped up to her door and announced himself.

"_I must remain in control of my emotions._" Unfortunately, that was easier to do when confronting a solid door and not a vibrant young lady. Still, his resolve held when the door was answered.

"Good evening, Lieutenant Uhura." The formality in his tone seemed to trigger something in her expression. Her surprise and joy flickered for a moment, as if she knew what was about to be thrust upon her.

"Good evening, Commander. Won't you please come in?" An equally formal reply. Spock detected an iciness seeping into the edges of her tone and regretted the pain he was about to put her through once more.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Stepping across the threshold, he paused, taking a moment to reflect and calm his fraying nerves. When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring directly into a set of sepia pools boring back at him. His eyes widened momentarily out of shock, and even this small shift in expression was enough to remind him just how well she knew him. He could see the miniscule smile tugging at the corners of her mouth indicating she'd perceived his small show of emotion. But he couldn't let himself be distracted. Clearing his throat, he attempted to start explaining his presence.

"Ahem...Lieut...ahem...Uhura..." he faltered. "...This is much more difficult than I expected." Taking a breath, he plunged forward, "Nyota, I have a responsibility to my people, my culture, my father...and if what I am resigning myself to is a purgatory of my own making, I will live in it quietly, knowing you have your new chance at true happiness." He fell silent, cursing himself internally for failing to remain impassionate. His eyes watched her with something akin to apprehension as he awaited her reply.

"...Well..." Uhura's gaze and pleasant smile fell as her eyes tracked down his uniform to intensely study non-existent lint. "I can't say this was unexpected, considering the situation. When will you be expected to depart from the _Enterprise_?"

Spock remained quiet as he analyzed this query. Something was not right. This was a cold, calculated, measured response of professionalism, devoid of the passion he'd come to expect from the woman before him. The fervor that had laced her insistent request to be transferred to the _Enterprise_ on that fateful day a few weeks before was missing, only to be replaced with a steely demeanor. With a shock, Spock realized he recognized this detached tactic. His mother had employed this technique when she was first brought to Vulcan permanently after his fourth birthday. He had seen the results of this barricading wall when he spied her in tears hours after the house had gone quiet. This was best diffused quickly.

"...There is no need for you to be restrained emotionally. You naturally have the capacity to respond with...with whatever you are feeling currently," he finished, lamely.

The dam broke a minute later. "I have the _capacity_ to respond with emotion?!" she hissed, incredulously. "Maybe you forgot, but _you_ have the capacity as well; you're just refusing to acknowledge it. Were you just expecting me to take this lying down?! Were you just going to present the irrefutable logic you've spent the last days concocting in that impressive brain of yours? Was there going to be any discussion or discourse between us? Or was this just your way of breaking away, 'setting me free'?!" She had advanced on him--they were nearly touching toe to toe.

"Please, Nyota. You have to understand that this is the logical choice. You must remain at your post. Your duty is to Starfleet, to the Federation, to Captain Pike and Kirk, whatever his next position may be. It would be unwise to upset your current position this early in a blossoming career. My duty lies with the rest of my kind. They require assistance in relocating, as well as establishing a successful colony. This is the correct approach." Cool reason presented itself on his face, but his hands clenched behind his back as his emotions got the better of him.

"When I came to you in the turbolift and asked you what you needed, you told me it would be best if everyone continued carrying out orders admirably. But this has nothing to do with a battle scenario, nor is this occurring immediately after personal loss. Do you expect me to let you go without a resolution to this emotional denial?! Because I can guarantee you, that Vulcan half of yours will be expected to be strong and stoic in the face of your home-worlds' decimation, but your human half will find no true closure trapped in a struggling society. Spock, you've always told me how you declined acceptance to the Academy of Science because your 'deficiencies' were the defining measure for the committee. In their eyes, you were an anomaly burdened by a handicap! You turned to Starfleet because it appealed to your human nature, so why not stay at least until you have grieved and thoroughly analyzed your needs?!"

"The woman who helped kindle that 'nature' is gone! Now I must appeal to my Vulcan side and follow my father as he helps the council rebuild the ruins of our race! I have abandoned them once before; I will not do so again." The veil behind his eyes swayed back for a moment, revealing the simmering ocean of fire in the depths.

She retreated slightly, turned her eyes towards him once more and asked, "If you will not leave them behind for their ignorance, would you consider staying for my acceptance of you?" It was a muted request, a whisper compared to the brimstone she'd spat moments before.

"_Zherka. Ashaya._ These are things vital to your existence and your relations with others. Think rationally, Nyota. What we share at this moment may not be enough in the future. Will it be one year or ten before you wake one morning, realizing your feelings have never been openly reciprocated?"

"And who says I won't be happy simply knowing of your love for me? Declarations aren't important, grand gestures are lost on me. You know that. So what is this really about?"

For the first time in his life, Spock fell victim to cowardice. "This _is_ the logical choice, my reasoning is sound. I have my duty to fulfill and you will have your chance at a strong and meaningful relationship with another. Know that I am sorry for the pain I am causing you, but in time you will come to understand my logic. I would rather play the villain now than the unresponsive companion for years to come. A star needs the cradle of space to thrive, and unfortunately, I will always be the _pash-yel_ to your brilliance." He sighed and collected himself. "I am expected to report to Starfleet command tomorrow morning to take the transport to Arus-zal."

Abruptly, he turned to leave. When he reached the door he paused, saying gently over his shoulder, "I am sorry I could not show the feelings you deserve to be shown. Live long...and may your shining light prosper. Goodbye...Nyota."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her rooted to the spot, tears starting to course down her cheeks. The _whoosh_ of her quarter doors signaled his departure. The bustle of the hallway drowned out her last words as he exited heading for the bridge.

"There will come a day, when you will understand _my_ logic, feel as _I_ feel, and show it _without_ shame..."

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English translation: _Zherka_: emotions; _Ashaya_: love; _Pash-yel_: black hole


	3. 2: Straightjacketing a Bomb

**Klacha Por'sen **by WikedFae

A/N: As we will not be coming back to Spock for a few chapters, I want to make clear before we continue that Spock did NOT meet Spock Prime prior to this story, ergo no discussion regarding "Stay in Starfleet" ever took place. I'd meant to make it clear before, but it slipped my mind. Sorry for any confusion! And now, on with the show!

**

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Chapter Two: Straight-jacketing a Bomb**

"Lieutenant Uhura to the bridge." The order rang through her quarters at 0400 bringing Uhura out of her hour long reverie. Her glazed eyes remained fixed on some undetermined position as she blearily peered out her quarter's window at the stars whizzing past. She'd lost track of how many times her clock had chimed; all she knew was that her sleep patterns in the last three months had been fluctuating and disrupted for days on end. Regardless, duty called, and with a great sigh she uncurled herself from her window seat, straightened her uniform, swiped at her eyes briefly, and headed purposefully towards the turbolift.

Stepping out onto the bridge, she was greeted by Chekov, just relieved from duty.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Oohoora," he greeted her following a rather large and unsuccessfully covered yawn.

She reciprocated with a small smile, mostly fueled by her amusement of his pronunciation of her name. _It's sweet…_she thought to herself. "Good morning, Ensign. Have a good rest."

He nodded sleepily and sauntered into the turbolift before it closed behind her. As she heard the doors slide shut, she turned her attention to the figure residing in the captain's chair and approached.

"Lieutenant Uhura reporting for duty, Lieutenant Sulu. What are my orders?"

Sulu swiveled around to face her, obviously immensely enjoying his brief time in the chair and in charge. "Good morning, Lieutenant. Captain Kirk left orders for you to relieve Ensign Botas and begin broadcasting standard orbiting requests once we come out of warp at 0600. Until then, he has requested you continue monitoring subspace frequencies for any messages regarding the state of Romulus and current political status."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Striding past him, she climbed the step to her consol and hoped she was continuing to carry herself with the utmost confidence as her gaze fell on the science station towards the helm on her left. The station seat was rarely filled these days; it was as if the crew was subconsciously acknowledging the absence of a certain officer, inadvertently making the absence more conspicuous than ever in Uhura's mind.

A sigh escaped her lips as flitting images sped before her eyes. The way his eyebrow quirked when the screens before him announced an anomaly in space, how his fingers danced across the panels with lightning speed and accuracy during sampling procedures..._Oh snap out of it!_ Mentally chastising herself, she began focusing on her ordered tasks, the scanning frequencies, and for an added distraction: catching snippets of trading vessel conversations, most of which centered on the latest scandals or gossip from the far corners of the galaxy. She'd become so engrossed in attempting to translate a highly accented version of an obscure Andorian dialect, she didn't notice the strapping figure casually leaning against the divider of her consol.

"My, my, my...you _do_ take your work seriously, Lieutenant."

Startled, she whipped her head around only to find herself the target of one of Captain Kirk's rascal smiles.

"I'm sorry, Captain. I was under the impression you required your crew members to perform with excellence, unless that was just a front for Starfleet command to keep you on their good side for all the insane rescue missions you've gotten this ship into." Even when she was almost dead on her feet, Uhura prided herself being able to keep on her verbal sparring toes. She flashed him a brief smirk and turned to begin programming her PADD. A few seconds passed when she noticed that Jim hadn't left for the captain's chair; rather, he was resolutely staring at her with genuine concern.

"Is there something else I can do for you?" Belatedly she added, "Captain." It wouldn't do for her patience to wear thin now.

While he didn't answer her immediately, he continued to pierce her with his gaze. After a moment, he quietly asked, "You still hurting?"

Surprised by the personal nature of the query, Uhura blinked rapidly, attempting to gain some composure. Nevertheless, when her eyes fell onto the empty science station, composure seemed like a fallacy.

"...Yes..." It was the smallest of whispers, but it carried with it the weight of her heart's burden.

"Come on, let's blow this stuffy joint for a while." This invitation brooked no room for decline, so she released her station to the hands of another competent ensign and followed Kirk into the turbolift.

"Deck fourteen." Kirk's confidence seemed to go out of him as he fidgeted. "Uhura, this isn't like a battle sequence, this isn't a tactical maneuvering session...so bear with me if this comes out sounding like Tribble dung." He heaved a great sigh before continuing, "Here goes: as Captain of this vessel, I'm entrusted with the well-being of everyone on board. And when I see my chief communications officer flinging herself into work at an unhealthy level, I'm required to intervene. Even if I didn't consider you a friend, it would be my responsibility."

"I'm touched, Captain." False sincerity at least added levity to the conversation, she thought.

"Uhura, listen to me. I know that it sucks. He left without any real explanation aside from some unfounded belief that somehow embedded itself into his Vulcan brain. But this ship is only so big and I need you to know that there are other crew members who are more than willing to be there for you."

"And does that list include you, sir?"

"Yes. So what do you want me to do?"

"Do, sir?"

"Yeah, you know...do you want me to hunt his hybrid butt down and make him pay like any good older brother would do?" Uhura noticed that his eyes lit up at the prospect of getting to throw down the gauntlet.

She shot him a wry smile. "The thought is much appreciated, but unnecessary. I think I'm happier that you've suddenly stopped hitting on me! I never thought that would change. I was almost betting that you would try to swoop in for your next chance and try to become the 'new guy' in my life!"

At this, Kirk's face darkened and his demeanor became introspective. "No. As a captain within the ranks of Starfleet, my official parameters are quite clear. Regardless, I wouldn't want any woman to have to go through what my mother did."

Uncertain, Uhura tried to make sense of this sudden change within the brave and reckless captain. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything."

As quickly as the darkness had descended upon him, it seemingly vanished, leaving the rambunctious young man behind. "Oh don't worry...Starfleet regulations don't restrict my degree of appreciation of the opposite sex!" The wolfish smile she'd become accustomed to was back with a vengeance and she couldn't help but smile back, indulgently.

"If we were still back at the Academy, I wouldn't hesitate to stop this lift right now and shove you out at the next floor."

"Then I guess I'm lucky that my new uniform prevents that! But seriously, Uhura, if there is something I can do, just let me know," he persisted.

Uhura held his gaze as she considered his genuine offer. As the turbolift came to a halt and they exited into the corridor, she made a decision.

"Actually..." she sighed, "I have been considering taking some time to fully explore the newest language in my repertoire. I would like to request an extended leave of absence with intent to return to duty on the _Enterprise_ at the conclusion of my sabbatical. Do I have your permission to disembark once we reach orbit?"

Something in Kirk's gaze shifted and began scrutinizing her, "Well, this is slightly unexpected. Can I ask exactly what you plan to do in this language exploration on Betazed?"

"Well, considering how much they rely on empathic and telepathic abilities, I would like to study how they intend to communicate with the universe outside their own planet."

"And you can't tell me that this won't have the added bonus of getting you off the ship and away from your new reality."

Uhura hesitated. "I'm not running, if that's what you are implying. You did just say that if there was anything you could do...well, Captain, you can grant me my request."

He chuckled, "Yeah, okay. I'll contact their Matriarch of the Fifth House and the Galactic Envoy once we enter orbit. Just don't be too much of a handful. They're supposedly a peaceful people...I'd be more comfortable if you reassured me I wasn't releasing a terror into their midst."

"Really, Captain. I would think your presence would be the more terrorizing. Just think how offensive a man of your quality must be for all those women." With that, she smiled, "Thank you. This means a great deal to me."

As she turned to leave, Kirk called her back. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Sir?" she said, doubling back.

"...Dismissed."

_Cheeky!_ "Thank you, sir."

As Uhura headed towards the communication center of the ship, she couldn't help but feel hopeful. She'd managed fine throughout her entire conversation and had even managed to laugh a bit. She would get through this, one step at a time. _Maybe this emotional time bomb will diffuse on its own..._she prayed.


	4. 3: Invalid's Salvation

**Klacha Por'sen **by WikedFae

At last, the next installment! Sorry it wasn't up earlier today as I had planned; I've been travelling. Hope you all enjoy!

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**Chapter Three: Invalid's Salvation**

The sky above her was dotted with pink cumulous clouds being buffeted by a gentle breeze. As she squinted up towards the heavens, she knew that somewhere beyond her sight, the _Enterprise_ had left orbit en route to her next destination. For Uhura, the next adventure would be on this planet.

She stood in silent contemplation on the landing pad until she heard footsteps rapidly approaching.

"Lieutenant Uhura, I presume?" Her sight fell on what appeared to be a young man, nearing adulthood.

"That's right. Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, reporting from the _Enterprise_ for in-depth linguistic and communicative analysis."

"My pleasure! I am E'dan Tio, assistant at the Telepathic Canton at the University of Betazed. My overseer, Elder Rhepin, requested I come greet you and begin acquainting you with your new surroundings. Please, if you would follow me."

"Thank you very much." This was a welcome surprise to Uhura, considering how her preliminary research had revealed that many Betazoids preferred not to speak at any great length. If there were more like E'dan here, maybe her research could progress faster than anticipated.

"I take it this is your first time visiting Betazed?" E'dan's question interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes, actually. Starfleet Communications was fairly limited in their course work regarding species with telepathic communicative skills. My interests lie in observational study to see if there are other physical cues that enhance mental conversations. Also, I find your empathic abilities fascinating. To perceive emotions when there are few outward signs must influence your culture on a grand scale."

"It's true. Betazoids are what Humans like to call 'blunt'. Since we have no true way of ignoring the emotions emitted by those around us, we have no reason to skirt around issues. There are no secrets, essentially. For example, I can sense excitement from you. But underneath this there is tension and a twinging pain." He stopped their progression down the hallway and pierced her with his black gaze.

Upon seeing her stricken look, he quickly apologized. "I am sorry. That was foolish of me, to give you the first taste of Betazoid perception so soon into your visit. The concept of privacy which you are accustomed to, is something that is only slowly being considered among our people. If I have brought painful experiences to the foreground, I sincerely apologize."

"No, it's quite alright, E'dan. I fear I must get used to an utter lack of privacy if I am to remain here for an extended period. If possible, though, would you mention to any of the professors I will be working with that I would appreciate their _non_-verbal acknowledgement of my emotional state regarding this sadness? Currently, I am trying to work past a particular betrayal and would prefer it if it were not openly discussed."

"Of course. I will do anything to help you adjust and accommodate your emotional needs, even though they seem counterproductive to our culture." Although his words did not sound comforting, he smiled warmly at her.

"Well, shall we continue?" Uhura motioned to the hallway ahead of them.

"Of course. Right this way."

Conversation ceased for a while until Uhura started becoming distinctly uncomfortable with the silence.

"So how old are you? For working at the University, I have to say I expected someone a bit older."

"Ah yes, I am 18 years of Betazoid age. I believe that that equals approximately 24 Earth years, although my calculation may be off by a slight amount. I began my work early at the university and decided last year to pursue the scientific workings of our telepathy and how it can be applied to other like-minded species outside our own world."

"That's very admirable of you. I have a feeling I will enjoy working alongside you and the other professors here," she said, smiling back at him.

"Hopefully you will find the answers you are looking for...and maybe some you weren't," he finished, cryptically, as he motioned for her to precede him into the entrance hall of the department building.

-----OOO-----

_Three Weeks Later:_

"Well Lieutenant, now that you have successfully completed the basic levels of our telepathic language, I feel it is appropriate for you to observe how we learn communicative procedures," Elder Rhepin stated as he and Pundit Eloah, the professor of Advanced Telepathic Technique, accompanied Uhura down the streets of Rixx towards the Plaza of Contemplation.

Uhura found Elder Rhepin to be a kind old soul and was amazed by how gentle and understanding his smile was. Pundit Eloah, or Jemma, as she'd been ordered to call her, was bright and vibrant, like so many other Betazoid women. She was extremely knowledgeable and patient regarding Uhura's inability to communicate telepathically. During her first few days, Uhura learned that normal telepathic abilities allowed each of the conversations' participants to reach into the other's mind and express thoughts there. Since Uhura had no ability of her own, Jemma would simply act as both transmitter and receiver while inside her mind.

"You mean, telepathic ability is inherent, but the method in which you use it is not instinctual?" Uhura asked, puzzled.

"Precisely. Our children are educated from a young age how to make the transition into telepathic communication seamlessly," replied Jemma.

"But how did your ancestors begin communicating if it wasn't pre-programmed?"

"The answer to that question is as much as mystery to us as how your ancestors received the gift of fire." It was a valid point Jemma made.

"Regardless," she continued, "the next step of your education will continue at one of the primary schools."

"I see," said Uhura.

"This is one of the premier primary schools on all of Betazed," announced Rhepin as they drew level with the front courtyard of a large, open building. Walking through the corridors, Uhura couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy at the stillness emanating from the classrooms on either side of her.

"Lieutenant, you appear to be distressed. Is there something the matter?" Jemma asked kindly.

"Oh, no...it's just that on Earth, schools are usually very loud and noisy. It seems almost like a ghost town in here because all conversations are being held inside minds."

"Ah, I see. Well, rest assured, our children are not permanently mute. Come afternoon break, I'm sure we will see one or more of the little ones screaming over which games should be held before classes resume."

As they rounded a corner leading towards another open courtyard, Uhura heard the faint sound of crying.

"What was that?" she inquired.

"That, unfortunately, was the sound of desperation," said Rhepin, gesturing to their left towards a small doorway.

Curious, Uhura made for the door, only to be stopped by Jemma's gentle hand on her shoulder.

"It would be unwise to disturb them, Lieutenant."

"Disturb who?"

"This is our classroom for children afflicted with _Irhicusta_, commonly known as Tholta's Bane," explained Rhepin. "It is a disease we first noted on this planet over two centuries ago. Originally, it was rarely seen in our species, but over the last fifty years, we have seen an increase in the number of children born with it. More significantly, now it seems to be preying upon those of mixed heritage more than our own."

"You mean, Betazoids are capable of successful mating with other species?" Uhura was astounded. As soon as she replayed what she had said, though, she felt ashamed. Of course many humanoid species were capable of cross-breeding—Spock had been evidence enough of that. In an effort to regain her conversational balance, she apologized and enquired, "What does this affliction cause?"

It seemed that the answer to this would fall to Jemma.

"Tholta's Bane interrupts the area of the brain designed for empathic abilities. Children diagnosed with it face difficult times, especially in their formative years. Essentially, these children are perceived as 'empty space' by those Betazoids around them. Their emotions are hidden from other empathic detection. Originally, these children resort to the baser communicative skills and will actually convey emotions openly. For those of us not afflicted, we learn to emit our emotions and do not require extremes in body language or facial expressions to convey anything. This 'lack of response' is very confusing for _Irhicusta_ children, therefore they escalate their emotional displays in order to achieve an equally strong response. In recent years, a new therapeutic method has been developed by the best doctors and psychologists on Betazed. What these children are learning to do is use their intact telepathic centers in conjunction with their emotional cores to send massive emotional bursts. They are learning to become amplifiers of their own feelings to help them integrate with our society. My son, Ophidu, managed to properly communicate with me after only two years in the program."

Uhura didn't need to be empathic to see the pain the woman before her had suffered and the relief that accompanied her son's first emotional shock-wave. The far-away look in Jemma's eyes and the smallest of smiles curling around her lips spoke volumes to Uhura and she couldn't help but smile back in joy of the mother-and-son victory.

Just then, a resounding chime echoed along the halls of the building and children proceeded to pour out of the classrooms.

"Mother! What a surprise to see you here." Nyota turned to behold a blossoming teenager, a few years younger than E'dan, with jet black hair to match his eyes. He quickly approached Jemma and enveloped her in a strong embrace.

Over his head, his mother admonished, "Come now, Ophidu, we have company. This is Starfleet Lieutenant Nyota Uhura," she added as the youth extracted himself from the hug and turned to acknowledge Uhura for the first time.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ophidu. Your mother was just telling me about you."

"Oh...I see."

Uhura hastily scrambled to clarify, as she saw Ophidu's face pinch in embarrassment. "Oh, no, nothing bad. I am new to your culture and my expertise in any medical field is laughable. She was simply explaining your condition and your new adaptations to make life easier."

Her reassurance seemed to brighten his countenance and soon he offered to escort her through the school once Uhura began her official studies there.

"Yes, I believe I will accept your chivalrous offer, Ophidu," Uhura said as she smiled warmly at him. He seemed to recognize that his past learned behaviors would not be frowned upon when in her presence and quickly reciprocated with a wild grin of his own.

A few days later saw Ophidu leading Uhura into the inner courtyards reserved for the _Irhicusta_ classes. She couldn't help but smile at all the energetic children and constantly commented on their activities to her informal escort.

"I take it that small group in the far corner has just begun the program," she questioned.

"How did you know?"

"Well, first of all, they seem younger than the other children here; but more importantly, their laughter is more exuberant. Not that the older ones don't have equally pleasing laughs...it's just that theirs is less restrained. They seem more like human children to me, instead of Betazoid."

"Are all children on your home planet like us?"

"...No, not all. But your class here reminds me very much of my primary school days. All this laughing and screeching."

"You are remembering fond times with friends, no?"

"Hey," Uhura shot him a sidelong glance, "I thought you weren't capable of active empathic perception and I most definitely do not feel you rooting around in my head...so what gives?"

Ophidu barked in the face of her tease and continued to explain, "While I may not have active empathic reception, I grew up reading those subtle signs from the adults around me. As a human, your expressions are more extreme and that look in your eyes tells me volumes."

"I'll keep that in mind for the future," Uhura said as they meandered around the perimeter of the flowerbeds. "What's it like, Ophidu?" she inquired, suddenly, halting their progress around the muktoks.

"I'm sorry...what is _what _like?"

"What does it feel like, this therapy? Is there a physical feeling accompanying the emotional expression? More so, how do you actually amplify your emotions?"

"Oh, well..." he paused, apparently never having thought of this query from an analytical point. "It's like creating an ebb and flow within yourself. For me, and I guess all the children here, it's a subconscious exercise by now. But if I were to attempt broadcasting my emotions along telepathic tendrils to every child in this courtyard, I guess I would start by visualizing seeds."

Uhura stared at him, rather blankly. He backtracked and attempted a new explanation.

"What I mean is I would think of all the energy that pours from a seed. Somehow, this small pod contains the beginnings of a tree. The same way with my emotions. They may not be particularly powerful, but they are still an integral part of me, just like roots and leaves are inexcisable from a plant. I imagine pouring a concentrated form of my emotions into a small space and then see it growing once it arrives in the mind of each individual. Does that clarify anything?"

"It makes sense...I think. In principle I understand it, I just thought..." she trailed off.

"You thought what?" he prodded.

"What exactly do you feel? When all this is going on, this concentration of an emotional package."

"Ah. The easiest way for me to explain it...well, it feels like...how would you put it...I believe the phrase is 'making something out of nothing'. For instance, when something small and benign begins to irritate you, or when something wonderful happens but you have a severely adverse reaction. It was quite an unexpected feeling the first time I successfully condensed emotions. Now, however, I have come accustomed to it. But, do these explanations prove satisfactory? Is there another analogy I should use?"

"Oh no, those comparisons give me a closer point of reference," she stated and promptly fell into silence, only looking up to give him a small smile. "You've been a great deal of help these past few days. Thank you."

"You're most welcome. I'll need to get back to my classes for this afternoon; were you planning on remaining here to observe lecture?"

"Oh, well, I think it might be best if I returned to the university to compile the new information into the database, but I will attend one of the lectures later this week, if that's alright?"

"Of course. If you'll excuse me..." he trailed off waiting for her acknowledgement. She quickly nodded and he hastily scurried back towards the main entrance of the courtyard to join the other stragglers frantically heading back into the classrooms.

As Uhura began her slow progress towards her office at the university, she remained unobservant of her surroundings, completely focused on the intense brain storm occurring inside her. Of course, she'd have to check her facts, and possibly examine her own sanity because she was certain she was starting to lose it. Hell, she didn't even know if this harebrained scheme would ever come to fruition; she wasn't about to calculate the odds of the scenarios playing out into her hands just the way she was imagining, but maybe, just maybe, this idea would lead her to serenity in its own perverse way...

Back in her office, she immediately drew the blinds and rummaged through her pack until she found her music chip and earbuds. After settling down and finding a comfortable position, she finally allowed herself to remember. She remembered the endearing quirk of his eyebrow, the genuine tilt of his head, the piercing stare that requested a constant input of facts and figures...and somewhere in the depths of her heart, Uhura could feel the gentlest of stirrings.


	5. 4: Desert Blossoms

**Klacha Por'sen **by WikedFae

A note to my readers/reviewers: I have been thrilled with your responses! Thank you all! It's always refreshing to get feedback and the occasional guess at what is to come. As to the latter half: no one has guessed it correctly, yet. I don't want to give too much away, but I've been leaving very subtle (possibly invisible) bread crumbs up to this point and intend to keep going with that theme. In response to some of the guesses I've received, however, I would like to briefly address how I perceive Uhura. She may be strong and resilient, but she's also exceedingly stubborn when placed in a position for which she doesn't care. Everything she says should be considered carefully, not ignored. And that's all I have to say about that. :) Hopefully the next few chapters will start shedding a bit more light. Now on with the show!

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**Chapter Four: Desert Blossoms**

Desert storms viciously blew the iron-silica particulates against the walls of the city. Spock watched from inside his quarters as the winds mercilessly attempted to engulf the obtrusive spires into the dunes, and sighed. Or came as close to sighing as any part Vulcan could. His gaze beheld the numerous buildings etched into the hollows of the mountains and he allowed himself to reflect on how Arus-zal had been a good choice, although it initially proved to be more challenging than many had expected. But within three short years, the introduced shrubs had flourished nicely, the planet's small water supply had been allocated and appropriated...simply put, the colony was well on its way to finding a stable environment. The same could not be said for their culture.

While an outsider would behold the new colony with wonder at how similar it seemed to any Vulcan city, Spock could still note the differences with each walk through the streets, each day in the school-even each night in his quarters. His eyes fell onto the bare bookcase in the corner of the room and he felt a strange pulling of regret that so many original Vulcan texts, having aged for centuries, had been destroyed. As a child, Spock had always wondered why his mother insisted on bringing books home from her travels. The feasibility factor was illogical. Upon asking his father, he received the reply, "Just as we Vulcans value our traditions, your mother's people honor theirs. Notice how well worn all of them are? It is something special to her, something she holds as a great importance." It wasn't until years later when Spock found a small chest containing four ancient volumes of Surak's teachings tucked away in a corner of his fathers' study, that he truly understood that sometimes, sentimentality can overcome even pure logic.

The only items housed in the bookshelf were his old Starfleet uniform pin, his Vulcan idic, a well-worn scarf given to him by his mother prior to his departure to San Francisco, and finally, the only aesthetic piece in his entire apartment. A small motion photograph of Nyota, beaming her best smile at the camera and batting her eyes occasionally. While it stuck out as an anomaly, Spock had no qualms about leaving it out in so presentable a location. Few acquaintances stopped to visit; matters of extreme importance were left to more reasonable hours unless they were of an urgent nature. Upon his first visit, his father had paused to analyze it for exactly 1.37 seconds longer than any other object in the room before proceeding with conversation and had never mentioned any oddity he perceived in its visible position. For Spock, it gave him a focal point for his memories.

Looking down at it, he allowed himself a small moment of reflection to how Nyota might have reacted at the school today. His brow was furrowed with something akin to consternation as he remembered exactly what had transpired in the learning modules that afternoon.

A young Vulcan girl, no older than nine, had suddenly stopped in her recitation of the geometric equations, setting off the alert for the instructor to inquire about any problems. Having ascertained it was not a computer malfunction, Spock made for the small depression in the floor and came to the lip in time to see the small child huddled in the center of her learning pod with misty pools forming in her eyes. As he descended the steps, she looked up with the Vulcan equivalent expression of shame coating her features.

"I apologize for my impertinence. I will resume the recitation immediately," she said as she straightened and turned to face the display once more.

Spock caught her by the shoulder to stop her, and knelt down beside her, blinking curiously at the tears in the girls' eyes, at an utter loss of what to do. Thinking back, he painfully tried to remember what his mother had done in times like this, when his emotions had gotten the better of him; or even how Nyota had managed to help hold him together in the immediate aftermath. Hold him together..._hold him together...__**literally. **_Internally, his human side seemed to be staring incredulously at his other half as if saying, "You moron."

Tentatively, he wrapped his arms about the small girl, pulling her into a gentle embrace. He felt her stiffen, obviously unsure of what action to take and most likely questioning his sanity as any true Vulcan would.

"What purpose is this action meant to serve?" she asked quietly in his ear.

_It is meant to serve as a reminder that you are not alone._ These were the words any human would have said. Instead, as he pulled back from her, he stated, "I believe it is supposed to bring comfort in situations such as this one. Are any of your family still alive?"

After a moment, the girl met his eyes and whispered softly, "My younger brother...but he is ill. Our parents saved us...and now he will die regardless. The couple we have been placed with has tried to be supportive...but..." She drifted off and looked away with lost eyes as if searching for the solution to her grief in the equations still displaying around the bowl.

Spock considered the young Vulcan before him until coming to a decision. Placing a hand back on her shoulder to regain her attention, he gently steered her up the steps and towards the instructors' tables. All the while, she stared curiously at him, or blankly ahead. He knew a mind meld with an elder would put her to rights; he would have done it himself, if he hadn't felt his own emotions roiling too tumultuously in the depths of his heart. He would only serve to upset her more if he attempted a link. Offering her a seat opposite his desk, he settled in his own chair and sent a brief missive requesting the presence of an elder. Looking up, he found he was being observed by the young girl with typical muted Vulcan inquisitiveness.

"You are not completely Vulcan, are you?" the child questioned as Spock shifted in his chair in an uncharacteristic display of self-consciousness.

"No, I am not entirely Vulcan."

"You hide it well, sir."

"…Thank you. I have had many years to refine my behavior." His curiosity was piqued and he continued, "How did you determine I was a hybrid?"

"Any full Vulcan would have immediately initiated a mind meld with me in order to return me to a stable, placid state. You did not. I could only deduce something else was deeply troubling you; because most Vulcans could tamp down many extreme distractions, it led me to the conclusion that something foreign interfered with your ability. Also, the instigation of physical contact is not normal for Vulcans. What differences define your genetic profile?"

"I am half human," Spock answered, feeling the stirrings of his other half as it prepared for inevitable distain.

"You have spent more time among them in recent years, then." There was no judgment in her tone.

"Why do you assume that?"

"I do not assume. It would be logical, however, considering the rescued Vulcans did not adopt these human tendencies over the period of contact during relocation. To have learned proper Vulcan disposition, your formative years must have been spent immersed primarily in our culture, but to be accepted into a human society, you must have needed to adopt some of their more emotional displays." Still no judgment, just a statement of inductive and deductive reasoning…a statement of truth.

"Once again, you are correct. Many years ago, I entered into Starfleet." He glanced away as her eyes widened marginally.

"Are you Spock Xtmprsqzntwlfb*, sir?"

"Yes. How do you know my name?" Spock asked out of curiosity. Generally, students and teachers were removed from personal contact until later years when specialties and concentrations were chosen within the fields of study. Someone had to have known of him and relayed the information to her.

"My father worked at the Science Academy; when I was younger and being groomed for a future in the scientific realm, he told me I should be sure of my motivation and resilience, because he felt the Academic Council had received enough of a shock to last into the next century. When I asked what event could have transpired for such an unwelcome surprise to catch the council unawares, he only gave your first name, saying that your ostracism from the Academy would surely follow you for the rest of your days. I automatically looked into the citizen registry to find any documentation of your name. Never did I dream I would be privileged enough to meet you."

"Considering my status within ShiKahr society from that day forward, I do not think the term 'privileged' to be fitting. I had expected something entirely different."

"When will you be returning to Earth?" came the sudden question.

"Be returning? I had not intended on leaving the colony until it finds a more stable state."

"I see." The tone in her voice suggested, however, that she did not see.

"Why do you ask?" Spock prompted.

"It would seem the logical step, to return to you post at Starfleet, having seen to the successful establishment of the colony. I assumed you did not tender your resignation, rather requested an undefined leave of absence?" Certainly presumptuous of her, but accurate, nonetheless.

"I believed it would be more prudent for me to show my support throughout the recovery," Spock countered, calmly.

"At the expense of previous duties and responsibilities? There are a number of Vulcans who were permanently stationed off-world that have not returned for longer than a few months. Why did you choose to stay?" she asked persistently.

"_Orensu_ C'Thiari**," a deep voice burst forward into the conversation. Spock immediately stood to greet the elder that had come to collect the child.

"Good afternoon, _Tela'at_. This student requires a mind meld as well as a thorough examination by one of the _Nenikaya_."

"Very well. Have all arrangements been made for her absence from the class?"

"They will be, shortly. I wondered if I may have one more word with her before you go," Spock asked, deferentially. After receiving an affirmative nod from the elder, he knelt before her and looked at her intensely. "C'Thiari, in this new world of ours, I sincerely hope you never fall victim to, or become a perpetrator of ridicule wrought from ignorance and blind tradition. Know that I left through the means of what I am, and that I must stay now because of it as well. Be well, and return once you have regained your balance." Slowly, he straightened and watched the elder briskly usher her from the hall.

As his subconscious watched her glancing back at him as she exited the doors, his mind brought him back to his quarters. He suddenly felt very drained and oppressed, as if the stagnant air of his rooms brought with it a burden of misery for his shoulders to bear. The stark surroundings brought no comfort or relief to this suffocation and soon he found himself perched on a standard-issue chair staring pensively at the photo of Nyota. For one of the first times in his life, he'd lied. More precisely, he'd omitted a truth. True, the cruel teasing he had endured as a child, his strong emotional attachment to his mother, and his sensitive nature regarding his differences had sent rage boiling through his veins when the Academic Council had ruled him 'impressive, considering deficiencies'. Sharp anger had driven him to that decision and away from his home-world. But as he'd watched his home-world implode, any defiant notions he'd harbored over the years crumbled away and gave in to guilt of a crushing magnitude. His human nature reared its head, forcing him to swallow the bitter taste of his abandonment, motivating him to stay with his people in a time of need and see it through until the end. And if that were all, maybe he would eventually grow to see the colony would go on without him and he could leave, just as C'Thiari had suggested. But it wasn't just that.

He hadn't just lost a home-world. He had lost the person who had taught him acceptance in the face of adversity. The person who had explained what love was in a human sense. The person who had brought him into the world and seen infinite potential in him. She had simply slipped through his fingers, like the grains of sand he used to play with as a child. Her mortality was more petrifying than anything he had experienced before, and as his human half cried out in pain, his Vulcan logic did the only thing it knew how to; it built a wall and broke down bridges. The best way to stop the pain was to excise the offending limb, or in this case, emotional wreckage. Isolate the wound, let it heal, and avoid similar situations liable to cause the same injury again. Effectively, destroy every fiber of emotional connection and suppress what two specific individuals had tried to cultivate within his soul. Deny himself. But surely, this was better than living through loss again, his Vulcan disposition argued. As he gazed at Nyota's beaming smile, Spock was suddenly not so sure.

* * *

*: This is the last name DC Fontana gave Spock in response to the incessant question.

**: C'Thia was a Vulcan philosopher who encouraged logical discourse without the construct of direction and purpose (a revolutionary idea at the time.) 'Ri' is the Vulcan word for 'no' or 'not.' I found this fitting because while C'Thiari shows no visible form and direction in her questioning, there is a purpose to her prodding in the end.

English translation:_ Orensu_: student; _Tela'at_: elder; _Nenikaya_: (noun) someone providing support


	6. 5: Across the Universe Part 1

**Klacha Por'sen **by WikedFae

A/N: We'll be taking a slight detour for this chapter to bring in some more familiar faces, because let's face it, the ship doesn't run itself. In an effort to keep the two timelines of our protagonists straight, this exchange takes place around the time Spock had his run-in with C'Thiari on Arus-zal. Essentially, we've reached year three (+) of the five year separation, so don't worry, it's coming together...just takes a little while. :) And now on with the show...hope you enjoy!

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**Chapter Five: Across the Universe (Part 1)**

The presence of Lieutenant Uhura was as empty and unforgiving as space itself. Her smile still shone, but its sparkle had evaporated like a star winking out of existence. Her laugh could still resonate down the hallways of the _Enterprise_, but somehow died before its time. Most pronounced, it was in her eyes that one could see she had become as hard as flint and controlled her emotions carefully. No one knew why and no one knew how; it was an accepted fact aboard the ship these days that building a rapport or friendship with Uhura took painstaking time and effort, and even after months her demeanor would still be guarded. But on the rare occasion that she openly showed her affection and appreciation for those around her, it was with such intensity that it more than compensated for her distance the rest of the time. It was such an instance when Dr. Leonard McCoy felt the absence of the person he'd befriended so many years ago, keenly and acutely, while simultaneously treasuring the fact this personality was not lost forever in an icy cage. He distinctly remembered the day she returned from her spontaneous sabbatical. He'd stormed into Jim's office and paced for a solid three minutes, muscles taught in outraged tension.

"I swear! She hasn't moved on. She's developed the personality of a statue! _His _personality, I might add. Load of good that sabbatical did—she's taken to schlepping that damned stoic attitude of his around with her, almost like he's never left," he fumed.

"Uh, Bones," Jim stated as he glanced up from PADDs littering his desk, "Did you ever stop to consider the fact that she's spent months with a species that tends to show _muted_ emotion?"

"But Jim, this isn't normal!" he pressed.

"And who are you to determine what's normal? Were you down on that planet with her? No. She's a tough girl and she's proven it a million times, so don't be so worried about it."

"But I _am_ worried about it! In case you hadn't noticed, there's no one on board this death trap who answers to the title of 'counselor,' leaving the responsibility to me! I'm looking at it and saying it's not healthy."

"Right, and where she was after he left is better than this?" Jim questioned as he stepped out from behind his desk.

"At least I knew what to expect then! I have no clue what's going on in her head now!" His shoulders slumped forward as he heaved a frustrated sigh. As Jim came up beside him, McCoy wearily met his captain's eyes.

"Look, you've been friends with her longer than I have, but we're both always on the lookout for her. I'm not saying I haven't noticed a change—I have, but right now, I'm not going to say anything. When it comes to matters of general welfare, she's just another crewmember, at least from your professional viewpoint. If you want to force her to talk about something, make sure it's when you're both off duty…and when you can guarantee that Sick-Bay will be empty for the next month."

"What? Why?"

"I'll need at least a month to find a replacement for you after she's finished burning you to a crisp for making her do something she doesn't want to. I'd rather not go through all the tedious paperwork. That and I don't want singe marks all over the ship—she just got detailed," he deadpanned before a smirk spread over his face. Jim grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him towards the door. "She'll be fine. And if she's not…"

"It's time for pointy-eared bastard hunting. Got it," the doctor grumbled as he headed in the direction of the turbolift.

That had been two years ago. Granted, Uhura had improved in the year after her return and started loosening up around old acquaintances, but it was still as if she was wrapped up in a straight-jacket inside. Beyond that, McCoy didn't know. He'd left the _Enterprise_ over a year ago to do a tour through the Rigel system where an epidemic of Rigelian fever had swept across seven of the twelve planets and was only now returning to his assigned post after hopping transport after star base to catch up with the flagship. It had been an exhausting journey and all he was looking forward to was peace and quiet in his quarters before turning in for the night. At least, that was the only thing on his mind before he was bulldozed by a fierce bundle of energy and accompanying flashing smile the second he stepped off the transporter pad.

_Well, at least she's slightly more normal,_ he thought as he slung an arm over Uhura's shoulder and shot her a relieved smile.

"It's great to see you again, Leonard," she said.

"From that welcome, I think you meant to say spectacular and wonderful to see me again," he smirked.

"Confident of that, aren't we," she came back as she lightly punched him in the side.

"Well, you know…" he drawled languidly with his Old-Southern accent, "ladies never respond to insecurity." Laughing, he nudged her in the ribs as they walked out of the transporter room. It felt good to ease back into their old routine of teasing and sparring. Never in a million years had he expected this kind of welcome, especially after her return from Betazed.

As they rounded the corner, a familiar voice echoed down the hallway. "Hey, Bones! I think there might be a case of Andorian shingles waiting for you in Sick-Bay!"

"It's good to see you, too, Jim," McCoy called over his shoulder as the captain jogged the last few steps to catch up. "If you'll excuse me, though, I think I'd rather spend a relaxing evening alone in a germ-free environment."

"What? No party! I was getting ready to celebrate the old team being back together again!" It seemed the captain was keen on re-enacting their Academy days, instead of running his starship.

"Hmmm." McCoy wasn't necessarily opposed to the idea, but at the mention of the 'old team' he saw Uhura's smile hitch a bit and knew such a celebration was not welcomed by her. For her, the 'old team' hadn't been complete for years. Surreptitiously, the doctor shot Kirk a silencing glance and casually continued, "Thanks, but no thanks. I put little faith in my temporary replacement and want to get some good rest before trying to pick up the pieces of my demolished medical wing tomorrow. But that reminds me, I do need to review the duty roster for the week with you. I'd like to make some changes to the assignments," he said with another meaningful glance in the captain's direction. Disentangling himself from his duffel and Uhura, he stopped and asked, "Sorry to cut this reunion short. Lunch tomorrow instead?" He shot her one of his trademark apology grins and was heartened when she shot him one of her own radiant ones.

"No problem. I'll let you catch up on rest. Tomorrow, 1230?" she asked as she turned off into another corridor.

"You got it. See you later." With that, he grasped onto Kirk's arm and started dragging him in the direction of the turbolift. "Now, Jim, what I wanted to talk to you about was…" he dropped off when he felt they were out of hearing range. "What were you thinking? 'Old team' and parties? It's no wonder you never had a long-term girlfriend. You're hopeless at reading signals," he laid into him. At least Kirk had enough sense to look faintly abashed. "Oh what the hell, never mind. It's good to see you." He shook his head hopelessly as the lift doors slid open and they climbed on.

He didn't see the brown set of eyes down the hallway that lowered in gratitude before Uhura silently continued on her way.


	7. 6: Across the Universe Part 2

**Klacha Por'sen **by WikedFae

A/N: To my readers, I deeply apologize for what I've been doing to Uhura. I can only say that it is necessary to the story developing. Sorry!

**

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Chapter Six: Across the Universe (Part 2)**

Uhura headed straight for the holodeck. Her reunion with McCoy had been drastically derailed when Kirk had shown up. Not that she wouldn't have welcomed dinner with them both, but she had wanted to spend some time with Bones and hadn't wanted to share it with the captain. Kirk was someone she wanted to be around when she wanted to laugh or be amused. Bones was someone she wanted to be around when she wanted to talk; now it would have to wait. And so the holodeck called her name. Approaching the keypad, she rapidly input parameters, launched the program and testily waited for the doors to open after the load completed. She stormed into the archway, grabbed the white garment off the hook and walked onto the mats in the center of the room. Planting her feet and balancing her weight, she commanded herself proudly and assuredly.

"Computer, generate T'ai Chi instructor: level, beginner."

The image flickered to life before her eyes and began to move in a calm and graceful fashion. Slowing her breathing, Uhura began to go through the meditative movements, the beginning steps crucial for her balance. As her hands pushed against the surrounding air, she summoned an inner calm that spread from her heart outwards to her fingertips. Just as Ophidu had taught her: precise nurturing and cultivation of what she wanted to convey before suffusing it throughout her body. She thought back to happier times. She remembered sitting under the Betazed sun during the afternoon breaks, observing the children as they enjoyed the time away from lessons. Some would join her under the tree in the courtyard and listen attentively as she told them stories of the _Enterprise_ and the Federation. She would tell them about her childhood in Africa and her adventures at the Academy, and listened as they related their lamentations about courses and friends and parents to her. Occasionally, jokes would be told and jibes were thrown, and in all the good fun, a chorus of muted laughter was the inevitable outcome. During the rest of the day, Uhura had spent time with the normal classes, but she'd always chosen to spend her free hours among the _Irhicusta_ children. They were her tether to a more human life, and central to the amorphous plan constructing in her mind. Their "curse" was becoming her gift more and more with each passing day. Sometimes Uhura was sure she owed her life, muted as it was now, to those children in the courtyard who had welcomed her into their world without question and guided her through their daily trials and tribulations. In some strange way, it had been one of the most wonderful experiences of her life. As her mediation came to an end and the instructor vanished, a smile blossomed on her face.

At least McCoy would be pleased with her progress. She'd known for years that he'd been concerned regarding her emotional stability and capacity to recover from Spock's abandonment and was grateful he'd kept tabs on her in the beginning. But even though she could handle herself among the crew on a daily basis, she did question her sanity from time to time. What McCoy didn't know—what no one knew—was that she had a plan. A plan that she re-evaluated almost every day, her intellectual side disgruntled that her emotional need for retribution and the interminable hope of a fantasy ending refused to wither and die. That, she knew, was not healthy; its continued existence within her soul was capable of consuming her if she didn't keep it in check. Ideally, she would have weighted her options and come to the logical conclusion that she should truly move on and stop wasting effort on a plan that had the possibility to never reach its culmination. But logic was logic. Logic was Spock. And her emotions had their own stubborn streak; anything that was remotely Spock was resolutely ignored. This was her secret—one she would take with her to the grave if she had to. She was not as morose to think she would live out her days alone if her ideas could never be carried out, but for the time being, her emotions maintained their resilient pledge to foster this plan, come hell or high water for logic. It wasn't something Uhura was proud of—she was more ashamed—but she had no idea how to diffuse her charged sentiments. And so she set time aside for tears, screams, and contemplation here in the holodeck, away from those friends she wanted to spare from her new existence. Afterwards, she would feel manageable, capable of facing her crewmates and functioning in her position. She could justify that as coping. But then, logic would whisper in her ear that more than three years had passed; 'just coping' was _not_ what she was supposed to be doing.

A growl of frustration left her lips as Uhura snarled at her inability to maintain her calm meditation. She'd let her thoughts wander off the path but had no motivation left to haul them back. "Computer," she stated, tersely. "Generate _Suus mahna_ sparring partner, experience level: apprentice."

A faceless figure materialized before her, inclined its head, and took a defensive stance. Mirroring it, Uhura planted her feet and pushed her weight from side to side. And she thought of the unfairness of it all. No true explanation, no further communication, no mutual conclusion had left her picking up the pieces of a shattered dream. The demise of his planet, the death of his mother…there were so many reasons Uhura could latch onto in an attempt to explain why he'd left so abruptly, but none of them could fill the hole or provide more than cold comfort. The uncertainty bred anger and hostility within her until she could no longer bear it.

How could something that had started so innocently and encouragingly go careening off the path into this chasm of unanswered questions and abundant pain? Spock prided logic above all else, so it should follow that what they had logically started would have come to a logical end, if necessary. In the weeks after he left, she'd replayed that dreadful scene over and over again in her mind, convinced she'd overlooked something. And finally, one night, she realized what it was. She saw it written in his face. If she hadn't known Vulcans were disinclined to ever lie, she would have bet her Academy education that he'd done just that. But considering how much members of the species distained such a practice, she could only assume he'd told only a partial truth. Either he didn't know what the rest of the truth was, or he was very much aware and was only trying to spare her from the ugliness. Neither thought was particularly comforting, nor was anything substantiated. She only had a memory…and an imagination that could be extremely overactive at times, making her doubt the facial anomalies upon re-examination. Every new thought brought her around to the same problem, every new solution left her stranded at the beginning again. It was a perverse spiral of self-doubt and new hope, sucking her down into a realm of despair until she hung, suspended, in a gloom of disappointment. And she was angry.

Uhura let loose. The holodeck image fell under her onslaught, recovered quickly and began fighting back. But Uhura would not be beaten today. Watching for the slightest movement, just like she'd watched for those elusive emotions on Betazed, let her anticipate every step, jab, kick, and fist the image sent flying her way. None made it through her defenses. Desperation fueled her blocks, anger filled her attacks. She was ruthless and without mercy as she cried out in frustration from the turmoil within. And just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Uhura slumped down and bowed her head as a few fierce tears fought their way free from her obstructing eyelashes. They splashed hot onto her skin, burning as they rolled down her cheeks. Looking up, she saw the holodeck image had retreated and frozen in place, awaiting her next command. Except she had no more commands to give, lost as she was. Defeated, she relieved the computer of its duty and ended the program. She was glad that she hadn't been reduced to a whimpering pile of weeping this time; it seemed she was making headway in that area. Her few tears began to dry and she blotted at her face in an effort to disperse the remainder. Taking deep breaths, she brought her racing heart back under control and refocused her thoughts on the present. It wouldn't do to keep examining the cracks in the walls of her heart; to continue would only cause the plaster to crumble and the chasms to widen. If she could view her heart whole, as the tapestry of her life, maybe she could overlook that it was still frayed and torn.

* * *

English translation: _Suus mahna_: A martial art form from Vulcan.


	8. 7: Time's Paradox

**Klacha Por'sen **by WikedFae

**

* * *

Chapter Seven: Time's Paradox**

His eyes itched in the heat of the evening. As a child on Vulcan, Spock had managed to adapt to his semi-functional nictitating membranes and survive the seasonal changes without much irritation, but he suspected that age and his extensive time away from home had slowed his acclimation time. Four years slower to be precise, as each new summer brought with it the unabated, uncomfortable sting of arid sand. In a way, it seemed he had become a creature of habit—one adapted to climate-controlled chambers and inky-black horizons. But that existence was light years away, so this meant his eyes would have to endure the assault until he reached the settlement nestled tightly in the foothills of the mountain range he was traversing. Over the last year, he'd become increasingly restless, but in light of his reluctance to leave the colony, he had taken to focusing his energies on the outdoors. His odd behavior had been noted by many of his colleagues and neighbors and it had effectively begun to ostracize him from the community. Not that he actively noticed. His world was one of solitude, save the occasional visit from his father; his days consisted of a methodical schedule that many would find mundane and dull, and his nights were comprised of preparing for the next morning when the routine would begin again. His responsibilities to the reigning council had dwindled last year and his employment at the school continued without much upheaval. Occasionally, he would have a new project to present before established scientists…but he felt unfulfilled in almost each endeavor. This sense of disappointment harshly resonated throughout his thoughts, when he would take to wandering the landscapes and deserts. And eventually it dawned on him. He was lonely.

Looking up at the skies, he thought back to Starfleet, Kirk, McCoy, the _Enterprise_, Captain Pike…and Nyota. Those words he'd spoken so long ago in her chambers had returned to haunt his waking hours. When he'd said them, he'd only intended them to have a desired effect; he'd never thought they would ever manifest themselves as truth. But here they were, and here he was, living in a purgatory of his own making, surviving each day but cursed to see nothing vibrant in a bleak existence. At least the challenges of the harsh environment allowed him to breathe deeply and see colors outside the city's austere spectrum, even though they remained muted. As the reddish sky began to darken, he turned towards the lights of Dahr'Kahr and began making the journey back to his quarters.

For a brief moment, he actually felt a stirring of enjoyment as his human half rejoiced at the prospect of a silent evening spent meditating, but that sense dissipated the instant he rounded a corner and promptly collided with another body. The other person, upon closer inspection, was an elderly Vulcan with wizened features and a pronounced frown. Spock automatically reached out to steady them both and apologized for not having watched where he was going when something in the other man's eyes caught his attention. It was the look of dawning recognition, but Spock had no recollection of ever having met this man before.

"I have wondered about this moment since first I learned what star date I had travelled into, those few short years ago," the old man mused.

And Spock finally understood. The revelation was complete, after years of uncertainty. The truth had been affirmed and Kirk's omissions clarified. Spock was gazing at himself. He stared at those eyes, so familiar, but disturbingly different as they faintly glimmered with the pain of guilt and resignation in the face of a lost existence a universe away. His older self motioned forward, inviting him to join in walking with him; it was with detached, perfunctory awareness, that Spock followed, subconsciously aware that this moment would prove to be pivotal in his life.

"Why," the older man asked after a moment, "are you here?"

It was a strange thing for him to ask, Spock thought. After all, the old man was him…or he was the old man…or they were each other and the same; but if they were the same, his older self would know his motivations and see no reason to question them. So they _were_ different. The aged eyes were filled with remorse for the world he could not save, while his young ones shone with the muted uncertainty of a decision he could not change.

His silence seemed to irk the older man. "Again, I ask, why are you here?"

"I am here to provide support to the colony." It was a simple answer, albeit, incomplete.

"How long have you been here," the man pressed.

"Since the establishment," he replied.

It seemed his counterpart was just as capable of gaping in an acceptable Vulcan manner. When he recovered, he continued, "I must admit, I _never_ expected to meet you, least of all here."

"Why? The colony is still relatively small. The probability of a chance meeting—"

"Because I assumed you would be aboard the _Enterprise_. Perhaps it is better that I have encountered you…it will serve as the reminder of how much my interference has altered the existential experiences in this time."

Spock was thoroughly bewildered. "But why did you assume I would have remained at my post with Starfleet? Is that what you would have done?"

"Based on the life I lived, I believe I would have chosen to stay, however this logic holds no sway for you in this universe; I cannot expect you to accept such an incomplete answer. You lost your homeworld while I lost my life. The two scenarios are not comparable. I am more shocked because I have, once again, underestimated how much has changed, especially with regards to myself—more specifically, _you_. I had anticipated Kirk would be a strong enough curiosity to hold you at Starfleet."

"Kirk?" Spock couldn't help but sound incredulous in his questioning. His older self seemed not to notice.

"Kirk had alluded to an existing tension and mounting dislike between him and myself…_you_…however, I did not foresee this conflict being capable of tearing apart a fledgling partnership."

"Kirk's allusion was not fabricated, his references, true; but then to which fledgling partnership are you referring?" Spock asked. "If anything, our partnership was fleeting, and I can assure you, I had no intention of continuing communication with him unless required to by my future station. His blatant disregard for rules and regulations may have saved the _Enterprise_ and countless lives that day, but such continued behavior will eventually lead to ruin and catastrophe."

"I see. You did not consider what kind of influence he would have on your life?"

"How could I know what kind of influence he was intended to have? You said it yourself—the interference wrought by your use of the red matter altered timelines, and lives. It is even entirely possible that had you not deployed the red matter, I would not exist. So perhaps I should ask you, what would you have done if you had lived _my_ life?"

"It is entirely possible I would have behaved exactly as you have, but I cannot be certain. All I am attempting to do is to monitor the timeline to see that it repairs itself beyond the damage I have caused. Starfleet was integral throughout my life—it gave me a sense of purpose and a second family of sorts. While I was never fully accepted by the majority of the crew, Jim and Doctor McCoy became loyal friends over the years. My relationship with the captain was vital to my development in human society—and I am convinced we would not have been half as successful if we had been separated. I explained it to your Jim, your meeting and his assignment to the _Enterprise_ were intended—destined to result in a friendship forged out of both crisis and adventure. It is inevitable that this relationship forms…it was born in my universe and therefore must translate into this one as it was my time from which this existence sprung. Do you now understand why I say it is imperative that you return to Starfleet and take up your post?"

"While I do not agree with your attempt to 'mend' the timeline—it is already broken enough—your logic regarding my return is sound, if we are to assume I must do this," began Spock, "But I must ask you one question then that may help explain to you why I hesitate." He paused briefly, weighing his options and debating his phrasing. Eventually, he threw caution to the wind and asked, "Assuming you would have left in the same situation, what would you have said to her? Would you have lied, like I did?"

"I'm sorry, but of whom are you speaking?"

It was Spock's turn to stare. Had his older self never known Nyota as he had? Was it possible she had never existed in his older self's time? "Were you acquainted with a lieutenant named Nyota Uhura?"

"Yes. Lieutenant Uhura. I remember her well. She had been assigned to the _Enterprise _for its five-year mission as our communications officer, however, we continued to serve together long after that specific tour was completed. Undoubtedly, her assistance over the years resulted in many rescues; she helped save my life a number of times. Beyond that, I found her an engaging person to talk to, yet was apt to cease conversing with her as I found it either strenuous or pointless…she enjoyed attempting to rile or invoke an emotional response. I take it your relationship to her is not so peripheral?"

"No, it was not," Spock admitted, quietly.

"Was? Then am I to understand you discontinued your relationship prior to coming to the colony?"

"Yes. I felt it would be best to remain unattached to fully focus on work here."

They had reached a small garden outside one of the larger living complexes. Both took seats on benches opposite each other. The older man furrowed his brow and continued, "The Nyota Uhura I knew hardly seemed the type of human to relinquish anything without confrontation. You mentioned a lie; I assume it was an easier answer for her to accept?"

"I am ashamed to admit, I gave her no recourse to impede my leaving. I stated my position and reasoning…and removed myself from her life."

"Your _false_ position and reasoning," his older self countered. "What did you say?"

"I postulated she would be happier with another person—one capable of showing her affection openly. While I am not entirely convinced she accepted my explanation, she did not pursue me."

"Did she express her opinion on her affection being reciprocated?"

"She emphatically denied requiring open expression, stating she would be happy simply knowing of my returned feelings…" Spock trailed off.

"And yet you left, regardless of her assertion." The tone lacing the voice indicated to Spock that his true motivations were no longer secret and this man had uncovered the truth in the silence. The brow furrowed again, and the man leaned forward. "Perhaps I should not find that unexpected. Do you acknowledge your true reason for leaving, Spock?"

"Yes," he replied, almost reluctantly.

"Then there may yet be hope for you…and a magnificent opportunity." At these words, Spock looked up to meet those aged eyes that glinted in the waxing moonlight of the evening. "I must admit, it is an opportunity so unique, I never experienced it myself…perhaps it was never meant to be Kirk in this time, but rather Uhura." His older self seemed to have lost himself in his musings but managed to gather his thoughts together and directly address him again. "We cannot fight who we are, what we are comprised of…to deny what differentiates us from those around us can never end well. This was a lesson I learned long ago, but if you search deeply enough, you may learn it at a younger age than I, and in a completely different manner."

"But we have already established that my future cannot be determined by your experiences—evidenced enough in the fact I chose to leave Starfleet," Spock argued.

"True, your future, past, and present have been radically altered already; but then I implore you to think of your next choice as not being dictated by my past. And if it is fundamentally different already, I urge you to put aside logic and take one of many leaps of faith…return to your post and end your self-imposed isolation. There are others to do the work needing done here." The implications imbedded in those words were not lost on Spock.

"Very well," he said, standing. "I will take your advice into consideration."

When his counterpart stood to face him, Spock felt as if he had reached a precipice and would be asked to jump from it in mere moments. As if sensing his trepidation, the older man spoke. "I have only tried to make things right, but it is ultimately your own destiny. I have confidence enough in myself to see you will treat these decisions with the care they require." Slowly, a hand was extended in the human tradition.

Tentatively grasping it, Spock said, "Then, I will be seeing you more around the colony in the next few weeks?"

"…No, I don't believe you will," came the reply.

"No?" Spock questioned, curiously.

"I believe you have already made your choice…and it may be years before we see each other again, if we are to even ever have this privilege. Do not worry, though…when you discover that your secret is not so terrible, we may be so close, a meeting face to face would consist merely of looking in a mirror. Or perhaps not…"

His thoughts jumbled in confusion, Spock could only shake his own hand and watch as his other self retreated into the night, bound for some unknown destination.

Looking up at the stars in the skies above, he sank wearily onto the bench and wondered how much explaining he would be doing tomorrow.

* * *

A/N: Okay, wow, my head hurts! I hope it's clear throughout the conversation just which Spock is talking to what Spock. :) Oh, there is some paraphrasing in this chapter—basically some lines seen in the ST 2009 film when our favorite Vulcan meets himself, along with lovely emotional conveyance depicted in ST IV: The Voyage Home between Spock and Amanda (although you might have to squint to see it!)

Once again, I want to reiterate how much the reviews and favorites have meant to me! It's truly a wonderful feeling to get positive feedback-and an even bigger blessing to receive constructive criticism. So if I've missed something, or you feel I should have elaborated more on one topic, don't hesitate to let me know. Regardless, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter-where Spock finally seems to get his head on straight!


	9. 8: The Long Journey Home

**Klacha Por'sen **by WikedFae

**

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Chapter Eight: The Long Journey Home**

The brilliant orbs set against the infinite darkness calmed Spock as he pensively gazed out the windows of the transport craft. The embrace of the galaxy welcomed him and he could only wonder at the surreal comfort it provided in its own abstract way. His human half was still rife with anxiety, causing his Vulcan half to constantly muffle its incessant voice, but at least the blackness coating the view portals acted as a soothing constant as the small transport moved towards its final destination.

Spock found it hard to believe it had taken him over eight months to reach the point of catching up to the _Enterprise_, however, considering the position of the flagship charting near the Beta Quadrant, how long it had taken to get his affairs on Arus-zal in order, and his return to Starfleet Command on Earth, it should not have been surprising. Staring off at a distant white dwarf, Spock thought back to what had transpired since his chance encounter with himself.

His older self had been right, of course. His decision had been made before they parted ways, but as he had sat beneath the desert sky, he'd realized how monumental the choice was. Perhaps he had gone against the self-righting timeline when he'd stepped foot off the _Enterprise_ and away from Nyota, when he'd fled filled with the cowardice that had consumed each ounce of courage he'd possessed prior to the rescue mission on the _Narada_. The implications and consequences his absence had caused were things on which he preferred not to dwell. Then again, the consequences his leaving the colony caused weren't much better. A muscle briefly clenched in his jaw—a tick, an anomaly—as he thought back to the disastrous meeting with the remaining elders.

Predictably, they were disconcerted and disappointed with his decision and just as the heads of the Academy had visibly bristled at his fated rejection so many years before, this council was no different. Whispered conversations followed him through the halls as he took his leave, lurking behind him and prickling against hairs on the back of his neck as he valiantly walked on with his head held high. The only set of eyes he sought upon his departure were his father's. While he missed those eyes in the atrium, he met them as he answered the chime at his quarters scarcely thirty minutes later.

"Father," he said, gesturing, "Come in."

Stepping aside, he watched as his father entered and evaluated the scene that greeted him. Small boxes were stacked in one corner, waiting unobtrusively until they could be filled, while PADDs, stacked inches thick, covered the surface of the desk; a serene sense of ordered chaos permeated the living space.

"I see you wasted no time in making arrangements," said his father, his tone of voice betraying nothing.

"The arrangements were only finalized this week. I'd started making them two months ago," Spock admitted quietly. Glancing up, he met his father's calculating stare.

"Yet you did not discuss the matter with me? Did you think I would disapprove?" Sarek's voice was low, but not unkind.

"It was…self-preservation, I believe. In an effort to avoid the disaster that occurred after I left Vulcan for Starfleet—"

"You went through the same motions, Spock. Why must I learn everything from my child at the last moment?" Spock inwardly cringed at the appellation, but continued to meet his father's eyes. Sarek continued, "You returned to the heritage of your youth while abandoning something that had given you a sense of purpose and being for years—I suspect something even more than merely purpose in some cases." With that statement, Spock saw Sarek throw a glance at the photo on the bookshelf. "Is it possible, your judgment was flawed, given your unique halves?"

Silence reigned until Spock replied, "I told you once that I felt conflicted, filled with anger and rage. I did not want to discuss this matter with you because I feel conflicted once again, only now, I am plagued with guilt. I had left you once before…I knew I shouldn't again."

"But that is not the whole reason why you came back." Spock's eyes widened marginally. How was it that so many could see through the layers of his motivations? As if reading his thoughts, Sarek answered, "You are my son, Spock. And I will tell you, as I did then: you are a child of two worlds. Yes, it was wrong of me to press you into the mold of a Vulcan child, when it was abundantly clear from a very young age that you needed to develop your human nature. I wrongly assumed that for you it would be one path and one alone. My blind conviction of exclusivity did not ease your way. Looking at you now, I find myself blaming my foolishness. What you found in Starfleet was not just purpose…you found happiness. I am at fault you never learned what to do with that. Anger, you are accomplished at processing, but you seem to be at a loss of what to do with positive emotions. If this is the case, I will reiterate what I said before: do not try to control, do not shy away from, and do not subconsciously experience these emotions. You did not pursue the _Kolinahr_ for a reason. This is your gift, Spock. Commit to it." Sarek fell silent and contemplated the young man before him.

Spock stared back and eventually asked, "How do you know all this?"

His father slowly approached him and said, "Because, I loved your mother." Father and son shared another weighty glance before Sarek continued, "I cannot teach you all of her wisdom, but I can attempt to make amends for the choices I led you to make. Go…go home." Their tenuous connection broke as Sarek bowed his head, glancing at the carpet with a distant look in his eyes. Spock stood, rooted to the spot, briefly overwhelmed by the turn the conversation had taken, yet he remained outwardly stoic.

Mechanically nodding, he raised his hand in salute, silently vowing he would return one day—this would not be an end, rather a promising beginning. Without another word, his father vacated his quarters and he was left standing amidst the dismantled pieces of his life.

His subconscious returned to the present as a voice, thick with static, came over the intercom. "Commander, we are on final approach. Would you care to come to the bridge?"

"Acknowledged. On my way," Spock replied. Unfolding his frame from the low bench, he made his way down the short corridors to the bridge. As he entered the dimly lit command center, he was unexpectedly met with the humbling view of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_ dominating the main viewer. Various crewmembers noted his arrival, however, none of them were observant to note that the even breathing of the Vulcan commander had hitched as he beheld the gleaming ship before him. Internally, Spock was very much aware of his emotional response, but vehemently repeated his father's advice: this was part of the path he needed to tread. And with that realization, he cautiously allowed the ebb and flow of emotion to pulse throughout his body. The visceral assault of home-sickness, longing, and relief that had been engendered at the sight of the flagship was something he had not been prepared for, but as he continued to gaze upon her gleaming hull and resplendent technology, a sense of pride blossomed deep within him. It was one of the few times he thanked the powers that be that he had not undertaken the _Kolinahr_, eternally grateful for the heartfelt wisdom that had shone from his mother's eyes that day, so long ago. And somewhere, from some intangible source, Spock felt reassured his feet were firmly planted on the right path. If he had searched deeply enough, he would have found the source of his welling courage, but the image that flickered on the view screen halted his seeking and left him clinging to that budding audacity with unsure fingers.

"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_. I understand you have a visitor wishing to transport over, Captain Lampard."

"Yes, Captain. Commander Spock," Lampard vaguely motioned in Spock's direction, "was planning on transporting. I was under the impression Starfleet had already provided you with his active duty forms."

Spock watched as Kirk's eyes flew to him, briefly squinting in scrutiny. "Yeah, we received his files a few days ago; everything's been cleared and his station is ready for him, as long as he's prepared," Kirk affirmed, all the while fixing the Vulcan with his gaze.

Recognizing the unspoken challenge, Spock gracefully drew himself up to his full height, leveled his gaze at Kirk, and calmly said, "Commander Spock, ready and reporting for duty aboard the U.S.S. _Enterprise_, if that is acceptable. Permission to come on board?"

A beat stretched on as Kirk considered. Then, a minute smile seemed to coax his lips. "Permission granted. I expect you to situate yourself in quarters, Mr. Spock, report to the bridge by 1500 and see that arrangements are made in Sick-Bay for a complete physical. Kirk out." The transmission came to a stuttering stop as the image flickered and faded.

"Will you need assistance with your belongings, Commander?" Lampard asked.

"No, thank you. That will not be necessary," he replied. "I do not wish to detain you longer from reaching your destination; I will take my leave immediately, if possible."

"Of course." Turning to his communication channel he said, "Lieutenant Rickson, prepare for Commander Spock's transport; he will be down shortly."

"Thank you, sir," said Spock. Receiving an approving nod from Lampard, he quickly beat the path back to his quarters, grabbed his small suitcase and the last of his data PADDs, and made for the transporter room. He barely registered the communication between the transporter chiefs, and the command "Energize" was lost on him as he tasted a trace of acidic anticipation and was whirled away into nothingness.

When his heart rematerialized, he was sure it twinged with a pang of bittersweet relief as his gaze was met with the sight of the gleaming white and polished gray walls of the transporter room of the _Enterprise_. Reining his runaway emotions back under some semblance of control, he purposefully stepped off the pad and greeted the first of what would surely be many familiar faces.

"Commander," said the engineer, jovially, "It's wonderful ta see ye back aboard. Glad ye finally came to yer senses, if I may be so bold. Things were startin' to get a wee bit dull 'round here."

"Mr. Scott, I fail to see how my presence alone could influence the entertaining qualities of the ship," Spock responded as he crossed the room, "However, I admit, the familiar environment is welcoming."

"Aye, I can understand that. Oh, the captain wanted me ta relay this message: yer former quarters are at yer disposal. Will ye be needing anything else, sir?"

"No, thank you." With that, Spock purposefully strode from the room, out into the bustle of the hallway, heading straight for the turbolift. While many of the younger officers took no note of him, his ears discerned the hushed whispers springing up from the dying conversations of those veteran cadets with whom he had served with, so long ago. Ignoring them, he quickly slipped into the turbolift, promptly exiting once reaching his deck. Entering his quarters, he was pleasantly surprised to find everything almost exactly as he'd left it, though the realization was also a bit disconcerting. It would certainly make unpacking easier, but the thought that these quarters had remained unused and closed made a nagging shame rise inside him. Accepting there was nothing he could do to change the past, he set to reacquainting himself with the rooms and emptying his luggage. As he unwrapped the last item from his scarf, however, a sinking feeling came over him. The photograph of Nytoa innocently smiled up at him as gnawing guilt blossomed in his abdomen. Knowing any starship crew, the story that he was back on board would surely spread like wildfire…and he hadn't personally contacted Nyota to inform her of his return. In fact, he doubted she was privy to that information at all, as most orders regarding post assignments and Starfleet business were conducted on locked channels between ranking officials and Starfleet Command. How badly would he hurt her if she learned of his arrival through the proverbial grapevine of lower deck officers? Glancing at the clock, he made up his mind.

"Computer, location of Lieutenant Uhura."

"_Lieutenant Uhura is in holodeck 2_."

Holodeck? That addition was new to him…perhaps it had been added during the repairs. "Computer, location of holodeck 2."

"_Holodeck 2 is located on Deck 7, port side_."

Leaving his room in an unpacked state of disarray, Spock made his way back to the turbolift at a brisk speed. As the decks flashed their countdown, he grew aware of how his heart had started pounding from adrenaline and what could have been anxiety. Logically, he knew this moment was inevitable, but he could scarcely believe it was actually happening. How much would she have changed? What would her reaction be? Was it inappropriate for him to hope they could rekindle what they had once shared? Would that even be possible, given his deplorable behavior towards her? Could she find it in her to forgive him, or would everything irrevocably fall to pieces? Was he secretly hoping it would fall apart? And if she did forgive…would he find the courage to go down that path once more?

His thoughts halted along with the turbolift and he mechanically stepped out, turning down the corridor. He knew the door before he reached it, heart still beating feverishly against his lower ribs. Centering himself, he calmly gave the command demanding entrance. As the doors whooshed open, he was met with the sight of a lush jungle of sorts, with no sounds save the pounding of feet and crunching of underbrush. Hesitating, he hung back at the entrance, waiting for something to move. And move, something did. Out of the thicket, blasting around a hairpin turn, skin shining from exertion and slender frame heaving, was the woman who had haunted him since the day he'd turned his back.

"Nyota…" he breathed.

* * *

English translation: _Kolinahr_: Vulcan ritual to 'purge' all emotion.

A/N: YAY! Celebration! They're finally in the same room together! And while I really should be studying for a final exam, I chose to churn this chapter out for all of you! :) Coming up: Nyota's reaction.


	10. 9: Unwelcome Visitor

**Klacha Por'sen **by WikedFae

**

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Chapter Nine: Unwelcome Visitor**

_Rounding a bend, she skidded to a sudden halt, dust pluming upwards from her feet in immense clouds. She stood frozen as the dirt settled, all the while staring at the stoic figure positioned calmly at the open exit of the holodeck._ A stitch painfully formed in her side, though she paid it no heed. How could this be possible? _Gazing across the small clearing, she realized, belatedly, that the figure was speaking._ What had he said? The buzzing in her head kept her cool reasoning wrapped in a muffling fog. The subtle vibration of the deep base against the delicate skin of her ears brought her to her senses and she removed the earbuds, shrugging all the while and calling out, "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you."

"Yes, it would seem those decibels would be more fitting shattering glass." It was a testament to her ability to corral her emotions quickly that she didn't flinch or grow misty-eyed at his comment. But as he advanced, she froze, rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle. He must have noticed her rigid posture as he slowed his pace and lowered his head, almost as if approaching a wild animal. At a meter distance, he halted his progression and fell into an at ease stance. Gathering her wits about her, she finally remembered how to properly form a sentence.

"Wha—what are you doing here?" Not the most welcoming of sentiments, but given her current state of disarray, she didn't care.

"I…" he fell silent, unable or unwilling to voice his reasons. "…I have officially returned to duty. Starfleet saw fit to reinstate me at my old post. I've only just arrived from my travels, however, I found it prudent to inform you of my return personally, so you would not hear from another crewmember…" Again, he fell silent, fixing his gaze on her hands that held her music chip.

"You…you came here to personally let me know you had come back?" Uhura asked, unsure.

"Yes."

"You came here personally to inform me…so I wouldn't need to find out from another crewmember..." she repeated.

"…Yes." His eyebrow quirked, his expression briefly took on an air of concern.

"You _came here_…so I wouldn't find out from someone else…and in all your time away and travelling…you didn't see fit to contact me beforehand." She looked at him and let him drink in the pools of disappointment filling her eyes. Tearing her gaze away, she did the only thing she could think of.

"If you would excuse me." Not waiting for an answer, she briskly passed him, ignoring his look of confusion. Even as she reached the door and he called after her, she didn't bother looking back. Her brisk pace morphed in to a slight jog the moment she'd rounded the corner and was out of his sight. Her dignity hung in tattered shreds about her shoulders, her embarrassment at having been seen—let alone by him—in one of her worse moments flushed her cheeks. She needed to find some answers. Most likely she would find them on the bridge, but the more immediate search was to find a friend…to not be alone. Spying the turbolift down the hall, she made up her mind.

Sprinting the last steps as the doors started closing, she barreled into the empty lift, roughly barking out a deck number. She paced around the enclosed space, thoughts jumbling and tumbling through her mind. How could she have done that? Just walked away? How cowardly was that? But could she have truly mustered up the strength to properly face him, in her current state? _Stop being ridiculous, Nyota_, she chided. _When you see him again, you'll be in control. _Her feet carried her where she needed to go, although she was hardly aware of it; when she came to her senses, she was standing in front of the doors to Sick-Bay.

Entering, she called out, "Leonard! Please tell me you're on duty!"

His care-worn face popped out from behind his office partition, his expression of surprise and happiness at her visit turning to one of concern as he took in her disheveled state.

"Everything alright?" he asked, coming up to her. "Did you sprain something again? I keep telling Jim that holodeck should've never been added. Fake images give people a sense of invincibility," he grumbled.

"No, Leonard, it's nothing like that," she said, staying his hands before he could start poking and prodding. "I just had a bit of a shock, that's all."

He scrutinized her carefully. "What kind of shock?"

She hesitated before shoving her self-preserving behavior aside and asking, "Did you know Spock is back on the ship?"

"He's what? He's back? Since when?"

"Since this morning, apparently. He came to inform me of his return, personally."

"And he didn't see fit to inform anyone else, let alone give fair warning to you? After what he did—or rather, didn't—do?" His tone took on the quality of a protective older brother.

"While your outraged sentiments are appreciated," she said, giving him a small smile, "They're not necessary. I just came here looking for a friend. He caught me at one of my precarious times."

"Don't tell me _that's_ why you were in the holodeck." He gave her a disapproving look.

"No, honestly, this time it was so I could clear my head, not vent. I went there this morning for a run, just so I would be calmer for the rest of the day…but then he walked in and I froze. It all rushed to the surface again. Like five years didn't happen, but the hurt stayed." She looked away. "I hate it when this happens…I go on with my life—" She shot him an angry glare as he cleared his throat. "—go on with my life, and then another reminder appears. Sometimes I hang on…others I don't." McCoy looked flabbergasted at her confession and almost embarrassed as if he'd insulted her with his near interruption; remotely, she felt a twinge of remorse for not having come to him more often.

He recovered quickly, though, and said, "Hey, kid. You remember to get back up, though. Now, you know I've never been happy about how you chose to lock yourself away. I won't even try to understand what happened to you on Betazed. But I've tried to accept the fact that you've changed. I knew you would never be the same…not with what you two had. It was a sad thing for me to see, realizing why you were pulling away and knowing there wasn't a thing I could do."

"Eh, you and Jim kept me afloat in your own ways. Like now." She smiled at him again. Her breathing had slowed and she heaved one last sigh, collecting herself. "Thanks," she said quietly, reaching up to pat him on the shoulder.

"Anytime, Uhura." His knowing smile bolstered her courage. Smartly, she threw her ponytail over her shoulder, squared her stance and readied herself to face the corridors and crewmembers. When she turned to head out into the hallway, though, McCoy held her back. "Hey, remember, you don't want to go running into this unprepared. I'll remind you, it's not a smart idea. And I should know. My ex and I both made that mistake…if it hadn't been for our lawyers, I doubt she would have even gotten Earth in the settlement…we would've blown it up in all the arguing." He smiled ruefully as she elicited a diminutive giggle.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"How long until your shift?" he asked.

"About an hour. I'm scheduled to be on the bridge this afternoon." She groaned as she realized the implication. Looking back at McCoy, she said, "You're right. I think I'll go back to my rooms before going to give the captain a piece of my mind."

"Exactly what I was going to suggest. Just please, don't send him down here broken and bleeding. I'd have to report it, it'd go on your record, there'd probably be an inquiry…not to mention I'd have to listen to his continual whining during his convalescence. Please. Spare all of us," he said with a wink.

"I'll take your plea under advisement, but I can't guarantee anything, Leonard," she said with a smirk as she walked out the double doors.

When she arrived back at her quarters, she collapsed into the chair facing the vast expanse of darkness that loomed outside the window. Inside, she felt numb and out of place, seated here in her room when she knew the cause of her broken past was walking the passageways. However, it was time for her to be professional about the matter; she knew she couldn't ignore it any longer. But what else had she expected? Long ago, she'd entertained thoughts of going after him but had quickly dismissed them. Then she'd thought he would realize what he'd done, come back, or at least be courteous enough to offer an explanation—but that fantasy, too, was short-lived. It had been clear from his abrupt departure, he'd wanted nothing more to do with his former life and she had worked too long and too hard to achieve her childhood dream. Fulfilling that dream had meant tending her wounds, facing her uncertain future, and disappointing her morbidly blossoming curiosity. And that had seemingly worked, but now as she sat here, she realized that slow-burning fire hadn't diminished in the last years. It had all been an illusion; her work masqueraded as emotional progress while her everyday life performed an unconvincing act of resilience. As she examined everything, she saw it for the façade it was, yet knew she was only disappointing herself…no one else had truly seen behind the mirage. She saw the hot coals of retribution hadn't been lying dormant—they'd been waiting for the last bit of kindling to be added. Every time she'd fallen apart, however few, had driven her to pursue all other aspects in her life (outside the catastrophic relationship) to new heights, spurred on by the dissatisfied taste left on her tongue after each tear meandered down her cheeks. Betazed had been sweet relief, and true to E'dan's words, she'd found both answers she'd been searching for and those she hadn't expected. But now she was faced with yet another decision. How would she continue and which path would she choose? She would have to think on the matter; ironically, she had no time left on her side. A bell chimed, reminding her of her impending duties on the bridge. There was nothing more to be done at the present time, so she straightened her uniform, took a few deep breaths, and slid into the role she'd taught herself to play. Examining her reflection in the mirror, she was satisfied no one would be able to see the war still raging beneath the depths and made for the command center.

The second she stepped off the lift, she was greeted by the sight of Spock, back at his research station as if nothing had ever happened, while Kirk lounged in his chair, smug as always when in command. And she felt nothing. The first test was passed, the hurdle cleared. This would be just another day at work and she would survive it even if she had to worry her lip clean through. The only indication she gave displaying her displeasure was to the captain when she reported for duty.

"At your convenience, _sir_, I would like to request a moment of your time to discuss recent developments regarding a _breakdown_ of communication among certain officers."

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A/N: 1. Well...there we have her reaction. I am hoping beyond hope that this meets with approval. 2. Italics denote pieces from the Prologue.


	11. 10: Delicate Dance Part 1

**Klacha Por'sen **by WikedFae

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**Chapter Ten: Delicate Dance (Part 1)**

The ensuing days aboard the ship were rife with awkward glances, stoic silence, dodging and side-stepping, at least where Spock and Uhura were concerned. Uhura had come to the temporary conclusion that she would try to avoid him as much as she could, given that her conversation with the captain had not gone over well. If it could have been called a conversation at all. In the end it had been very one-sided.

"Uhura, look, I don't know how many ways to apologize, but it wasn't something I took lightly. Had I known you'd go all hormonal, I wouldn't have let him come back. I figured I could count on my officers to behave like adults," he'd started off saying.

Thankfully they were off duty, otherwise she would have held her cheek in check. "Behave like adults…yes, because you've had so much success in that arena."

His eyes slowly tracked up from his desk to meet her in a disbelieving stare.

Realizing her error, she apologized before launching a renewed assault of seething indignation. "I'd only hoped you might have decided to inform me before the first evidence I saw of his return was him _standing in the doorway of the holodeck yesterday morning_."

"And I had assumed he would have made arrangements and discussed the matter with you. Apparently not." He sighed and added a grumbled, "_Vulcans…_" as he shook his head.

She decided to push her luck saying, "You know what they say about making assumptions, let alone ones about Vulcans."

He retorted with a sarcastic "Ouch," before switching into a more serious tone. "What do you want me to do? I can't send him packing—Starfleet Command would want an explanation. Should I place you on opposite ends of the duty schedule? While I don't care for that approach, I'd rather still have both of you aboard, even if it means I only get to see the more beautiful of you two and none of Mr. Pointy-Ears." A sly grin made a brief appearance before he continued, "Bottom line, I don't want to be woken in the middle of the night to a self-destruct alarm going off because you two couldn't keep it in check."

"Well, obviously that wouldn't—" she started.

"Obviously? Uhura, nothing has been obvious with you for the last five years. Except for the fact you wanted to handle this one your own, which you made impeccably clear. For now, I'm asking you to handle the situation…it wasn't mine to begin with. I'm sorry this is how it's playing out, and don't think I won't find a solution if it turns out there are 'irreconcilable differences' or whatever you want to call them. But I will not allow something like this to get in the way of how this ship runs, do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

"I'm not trying to be a hard-ass about this and I'm not turning a blind eye, either. I've always offered my support, but at this point, I can't realistically put an entire bridge roster on end because of a scuffle. There are more people involved and my responsibilities encompass them, too. Not just you. Think about it. You know why I'm doing this."

She gave a curt nod, bit her tongue, and inwardly chastised herself for both her impudence and own misguided assumption that her view would engender sympathy based on mutual history.

Kirk rose to his feet and came to escort her out of his home office and to the door. She remained silent and aloof as he guided her down the short corridor to the exit. When he opened the door, he stopped her and gently teased, "Oh come on, I know you're dying to take a shot at me right now. Something?...Anything?" Her resolve held out though as she stepped out into the hallway and turned to face him with a mask of icy detachment in place. "I guess I'm being saved from the fire and brimstone and being thrown right back onto Delta Vega, huh? Brrrrr…" he quipped. "Oh well. Can't get everything you want."

As she turned to leave, he took his parting shot, saying, "Hey, Uhura? Next time you see Spock could you let him know I need to see him?"

The resolve crumbled and in a moment of sheer indulgence, Uhura heaved a great huff of aggravation, reached back to hit the access consol, and watched with great satisfaction as the door rapidly slid shut, millimeters from Kirk's nose. Even the look on his face was reminiscent of that day at the academy so long ago. Content with having had the last figurative word, even as his muffled chuckle sounded behind the metal, she turned on heel and set off towards the bridge.

Upon arriving at her post and resuming duties, she was made to endure a few irritating hours constantly aware of every sound uttered from the station two down from her own. Spock was busy with work, seemingly absorbed in his responsibilities, but she knew better. She heard the hesitation in his voice as he recorded entry after entry in the log. Shooting a furtive glance in his direction, she could even see the minute tilt of his head although no one else did.

On some conscious level he was aware of her—no doubt he was aware of her schedule and when or where it coincided with his—but even in this moment, she realized her presence had affected him. If he was uncomfortable or disconcerted, she couldn't discern it, but she knew something about their proximity had put him on alert.

They hadn't spoken aside from terse words of "welcome" on the holodeck so she couldn't help but wonder about his behavior. Had he expected a different reaction? Or had he not considered her impending reaction at all? For how well she'd known him, his current behavior was something she could never have predicted. Then again, whatever had driven him to flee all those years ago was still a mystery to her. His motivations for abandoning his place in her world were obscured in mists of experiences she'd never shared. But while she contemplated all the new quirks and curiosities, she still wasn't oblivious to how egregiously her attention had wandered and made a renewed effort to concentrate on translating and interpreting incoming messages from Romulus and the occasional one from Remus. If she concentrated hard enough, new conversations would absorb her soon enough. Without fail, a transmission came over her searching frequency: a Romulan notification to the Federation regarding the status of Reman separatists and their uprising on the edges of the dilithium mining colonies. She found herself engrossed within minutes and felt stretched to the limit of her translating capabilities when bits of intercepted Reman communiqués were forwarded along with the remainder of the message. Taking a breath, she utilized her knowledge of written Romulan to extrapolate and make some sense of the pictographs littering the screen. A challenge like this was exactly what she needed.

And a challenge it certainly was. Long after the transmission had faded, Uhura was left puzzled as to the nature of the Reman message, but sufficiently distracted enough not to realize how much time had passed. It wasn't until Lieutenant Baccatus tapped her on the shoulder and enquired if everything was alright that Uhura started and pried her eyes away from the screen.

"Oh, sorry Lieutenant. No, everything's quite alright. I just need to transfer some files and the station's all yours." Briefly, she flashed a minute smile that seemed to shock Baccatus more than her distant behavior had. Removing herself from her station after her files had copied she made her way over to the captain to give an update.

While she still hadn't forgiven him for his oversight and assumption, she also understood his position and its accompanying mandates. It was this same comprehension that warmed her voice a few degrees Kelvin over frigid, ever so subtly informing him he was no longer a target of her anger while she gave her meticulous report. "It may be nothing, sir, but messages from Romulus have increased; general notifications to the Federation regarding a separatist movement. On this intercepted transmission, they've included some pictographs. Should I review them and get back to you?"

Kirk, having seemed to realize he was out of the woods but still in the dog house, acknowledged with a knowing, "Don't worry about it, unless you don't have anything better to do. It's enough that we've been notified of the growing situation. Dismissed." He gave her a reassuring smile, which, while not reciprocated, was well-received.

Recognizing he would not stop her if she continued to allow the message to preoccupy her thoughts, although he would rather her civilly address a certain crewmember, she withdrew to the turbolift doors to head back to her quarters for a (hopefully) uneventful evening.

Turning the various Reman symbols over in her mind, she automatically stepped forward as the doors opened only to stop abruptly as she saw the lift was already occupied.

"Commander," she greeted in a low voice.

He paused, somehow unsure, before matching her subdued salutation. "Lieutenant."

Nodding, she made to step around him into the lift as he attempted to do the same. While great minds were said to think alike, choosing the same direction to move towards only led to a near collision. Grimacing awkwardly, Uhura made to move to the other side, only to find Spock having the same thought. Taking the initiative, Spock stepped back and to the side, motioning for her to enter before smartly exiting and returning to his post without so much as a second glance.

Uhura sighed as the doors closed. It seemed like their tentative tango would go on a few days more. Alone in the lift, she was left with one niggling thought at the back of her mind. _It's only a matter of time before the tension snaps._

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A/N: OH! Look! There's a second chapter uploaded today as well! WOOT! Enjoy!


	12. 11: Delicate Dance Part 2

**Klacha Por'sen **by WikedFae

IF YOU AUTOMATICALLY CLICKED ON THIS CHAPTER FROM THE PROLOGUE, **2** CHAPTERS HAVE BEEN ADDED TODAY! PLEASE GO THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER OR THIS MAY NOT MAKE SENSE!

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**Chapter Eleven: Delicate Dance (Part 2)**

He felt wrong-footed. There was no other explanation for it. Each moment since he'd seen her in that holodeck and watched her retreating figure, his human side _felt_ off-kilter. Something in that meeting had been wrong. While his Vulcan side had admired her ability to reign in her shock, which she'd undoubtedly felt, his human half had been disconcerted. It had been as if she were a shadow of her former self. If this subdued form had been transient and a direct response to his sudden appearance, he might have comprehended it; but as the days passed, Spock became aware this was more than a temporary and fleeting state. She truly was a shade. Though he could see she interacted well with the crew and completed her assignments admirably, there was something missing—a spark that had always intrigued him seemed to have been extinguished. It was as if she'd almost become part Vulcan…but how that was possible, Spock was at a loss to explain. The thought her behavior was linked to him became more persistent, however much it irked and disconcerted him. If he were honest with himself, he'd secretly imagined she would have taken his blunt and unelaborated reasons and followed his unsubstantiated advice…he supposed now, he knew why the term was 'imagined'. His own logic and understanding of her character chimed in, echoing in mocking triumph: reason and subsequent evidence pointed to the contrary scenario.

His compulsory visit to Sick-Bay and inevitable meeting with Dr. McCoy cemented his concerns. The cool greeting alone sufficed to solidify his suscpicions.

"Well, well, well. Commander, back aboard, I see," McCoy had started off saying.

"Yes, although I don't doubt my return is news to you," Spock countered.

"No, you're right about that. Had a lovely conversation with your ex about this new development. But I take it you're here to schedule the mandatory physical and _not _discuss Uhura."

"Yes, however, if you had a moment, I would like to ask a few questions regarding…my ex, as you put it."

"Sure I have a moment. The question is, do I have the inclination to answer? I can schedule you for a physical tomorrow morning between 0800 and 0930, by the way," he continued, undeterred.

"That time would be satisfactory. Would you also be inclined to answer my questions then?"

"Are you out of your Vulcan mind? Chit-chat during a physical? You must have gotten too much sand in your head before leaving that colony if you ever thought I'd let something like that fly."

"Then are you inclined to answer them now?" Spock felt a brief flare of irritation at the runaround.

McCoy seemed to size him up for a moment before continuing, "What do you want to know?"

"Lieutenant Uhura…when I encountered her in the holodeck, she seemed…unusually restrained."

"Unusually restrained? Maybe to you, but she's been like that for years."

"Years?"

"After you left, she wandered around like a zombie for a couple months, took a sabbatical, came back and has been that way ever since. I was gone for part of that myself, so what happened during that year is a mystery to me. I'm lucky she talks to me as much as she does. We—as a crew—have taken it in stride. It's just the way she is now." His tone was clipped.

"A sabbatical? Where?"

"Betazed. She came back like that. No one could figure it out, she was less than forthcoming with information. The only thing I know is that she started using the holodeck more…and I suspect it got more use the more she held back."

"And no one questioned this behavior or became concerned?"

Veiled anger tinted McCoy's voice, "There were those select members of the crew, including myself, who did become very concerned. We did what we could. Respected her privacy. Stuck by her side instead of wandering off."

Spock realized he was treading on dangerous ground and it would behoove him to break the line of questioning sooner rather than later. "I see. Well, thank you for the information. It's been most enlightening."

"I'm sure it has been," McCoy muttered.

"I'll return tomorrow morning then. Excuse me," Spock said as he made to depart, "I need to report to the bridge."

"Yeah…" McCoy uttered as the doors of Sick-Bay started sliding shut.

Still mulling the conversation over in his mind, Spock exited the lift onto the bridge to find the captain in communication with Starfleet Command and his place at the science station unoccupied. Kirk looked up and acknowledged his presence, then promptly waved him over, indicating he should take a seat and return to those duties he'd left all those years ago. Dutifully, he took up his post while his mind continued to churn. Peripherally, he noticed the comings and goings of the crew but soon the numerous readings he was monitoring sufficiently distracted him until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he met the gaze of Kirk who quietly demanded, "A moment, Commander."

Rising, Spock noticed another crewmember had taken her place on the bridge, but he did not attempt to catch Uhura's eye as he crossed to enter the captain's office.

"So, welcome back," Kirk said after a perfunctory pause, once the door had shut.

"Thank you."

"Well…" Kirk said with an air of distracted enthusiasm. He continued, seriously, "You know, Spock, normally I don't do this so soon after a crewmember comes aboard…but if you ever place me in the position between you and a certain lieutenant again, so help me, I will have you removed from duty faster than you can say _sahaisaya_, do I make myself clear? And yes, I looked up the term."

"Sir?"

"This _wonderful_ position of authority I hold also means other people get their toes stepped on if I'm placed in a precarious position. Don't let it happen again. Here I thought you'd actually gotten in touch with those emotions you bury in that bomb-shelter of 'Vulcanism' and contacted Uhura before returning to duty. I wasn't too pleased turning her away after she demanded a meeting with me regarding a 'breakdown in communication'. You know Starfleet regulation inside and out—along with the stipulation that crew assignments be confidential to those higher in command."

"Yes, I was fully aware of that condition and assumed no breach of confidentiality had occurred, hence why I endeavored to find Lieutenant Uhura shortly after arriving."

"See, that right there, is why you'll never have a girlfriend. And why Uhura has been out of sorts since you got back." Kirk gesticulated accusingly as he sat down behind his desk.

"Dr. McCoy answered some questions of mine as to Lieutenant Uhura's behavior earlier."

"Oh, so he did tell you why she's pent up tighter than a Kryonian tiger ready to spring?"

"He did not explain why, merely that this behavior is not recent."

"Not recent is a bit of an understatement when it's gone on for—"

"Five years," Spock finished.

"Yeah…" Kirk sighed. "So where'd you track her down?"

"I found her in the holodeck. A most fascinating program in itself."

Kirk shot him a look that said he didn't give a damn about how fascinating the program was. However, he chose not to comment and remarked, "Yeah, she tends to escape there every once in a while."

"Escape?"

"That's what I call it. Do I know what she does in there? No. Maybe you should ask her."

"I do not believe she is willing to speak to me regarding the matter."

"No? I wonder why," Kirk said sarcastically. "I'm meeting with her tomorrow morning considering you gave her quite the shock showing up out of the blue. But after that, I strongly suggest you figure out a way to make it work. I don't care how, just as long as the functioning of this ship is not disrupted."

Internally, Spock was a bit shocked himself at the sudden turnaround he perceived in the captain. Kirk had certainly matured as much as Nyota had changed. Externally, he nodded his understanding before being dismissed.

But just as Kirk had had no advice as how best to approach the strained situation, Spock was at a similar loss. Temporarily, he settled for acknowledging the problem, but not actively seeking to solve it. Each time he saw Nyota, he was sure he had found a good way to approach her, only to realize moments later that the premise he'd concocted was such a weak façade, it would never serve. And so it went for days. It wasn't until five days later that he saw an opportunity. After having nearly collided with Nyota in the turbolift, he'd had to answer some uncomfortable questions from the captain. After admitting he had still not found a way to speak with her, he desperately sought for a new line of conversation. Inquiring about news from the previous shift, Kirk regarded him briefly before speaking, all the while a strange gleam in his eyes.

"Just got news from Romulus. More Reman separatist uprisings…this time they included pictographs. Don't know if we should bother decoding them or not, but we relayed the message on to Starfleet Command. I know Uhura has a copy with her."

Spock's eyes widened marginally as he realized what Kirk was up to. Thanking him for the update, he returned to his station, convinced he now had a way in. As he sat down, he heard Kirk mutter, "They all just need a good kick in the ass."

-OOO-

_The Next Day:_

His mouth was dry. It was the only sign his body gave that he was apprehensive as he stared at the unforgiving holodeck doors. His hand hovered over the access panel, not quite touching it, almost as if it feared what would happen when the tactile sensors would activate the entry mechanism. But rationality won out, arguing the uncertainty draped over both their shoulders needed to disappear if any progress were to be made. And so, with his heart plummeting even further into his abdomen, he pressed the last button. The sight that greeted him was one for which he was wholly unprepared.

Nyota stood in a dimly lit hall, accompanied by a figure, stepping gracefully from side to side, moving as if in a trance. Each motion was calculated, measured, and beautifully executed, and Spock found himself at a loss for words. Unfortunately, the scene she set ended too quickly, as the _whoosh_ of the doors alerted her to an unwanted presence. Tentatively, Spock entered the room, watching for any complaint on her part. Seeing none, he cautiously approached in a manner reminiscent of his last visit to this room.

"Commander."

"Lieutenant. I was told I might find you here."

"Really? By whom? The computer?" she quipped.

"No, Dr. McCoy and Captain Kirk, more precisely. Although, had they not informed me you frequently make use of the holodeck, we may have still encountered one another here. It is a marvelous feat of technology—one I would be interested to learn more about." This seemed to be a safe topic of conversation, he thought.

"You would have to ask Scotty about it; I only know how to use the program, not how it works," she deflected. Undeterred, Spock pressed on.

"Regardless, you seem to have extensive experience. I am curious, what were you doing when I interrupted?"

A sigh tinted with exasperation escaped her lips, but she capitulated. "It was a modified version of T'ai Chi." It seemed she would not give up easily, so he persisted.

"Modified in what way?"

Quietly, she said, "I added in specific _Suus mahna_ movements to increase range of motion and set varying tempos into my routine."

"I thought some movements looked familiar. Though I must admit, I did not expect you to have remembered what little we had worked on back at the Academy."

"Oh," she said as she straightened her posture. "I get the feeling you would be surprised by how much I remember."

Intrigued, Spock temporarily abandoned his intended conversation tactic, accepted her unspoken challenge and said, "And if I were to step here…and raise my elbow so…"

"I would side-step here, turn, and block," she countered, matching the movements.

"And if I jab and duck…"

"I swing, twist, follow through, and attack from above," she finished.

Impressed, he tested her knowledge further but gave no warning to his motion. Deftly, she blocked and met his challenge with one of her own. Her ingenuity peaked his curiosity even more and slowly but surely, they began sparring, using every technique in the beginner's repertoire. He would step to the left, she would counter to the right, bending nimbly away from his already accelerating swing while he would have just enough time to rebound and block from his missed attack. Occasionally, Spock incorporated an apprentice level technique to assess how much she had retained from her early days of training. A brief slide to circle around her and a light shoved caused her to overbalance, forcing her to tuck into a roll, successfully foiling her planned attack. But when he realized that some of his attacks hit true to their mark as her defenses broke under them, he began to use them less frequently. While he held himself back, he was amazed how many times they still reached a stale-mate, only to begin seconds later with renewed motivation and imaginative performances.

And there, in the depths of her eyes, Spock could see the spark flare back to life, as if it had never left and was only choosing now to reveal its presence. In the glory of the moment, skin shining from exertion, Nyota seemed to have come back and he savored the possibility that all was not lost—that somehow this storm would be weathered by them both. A grim, determined grin settled on her mouth and it reminded him of those evenings so long ago when they would playfully spar in the athletic halls, how she would watch his every move, meticulously taking notes, learning what he had to teach. There, in that onslaught of fists, kicks, twists, turns, slides and leaps, there was hope and redemption. At least, so it seemed. Their breathing was quick, labored in time with one another; they showed no signs of slowing. How long the sparring lasted was impossible to tell, but eventually both began to slip, exhaustion began to take its toll. Before either of them miscalculated a punch and seriously injured the other, Spock called an end to the fight, quickly retreating and bowing respectfully.

"Your skills have remained intact. I commend you on that," he said.

She shifted her weight and rolled back her shoulders, visibly trying to come down from the rush of adrenaline. She did not acknowledge his compliment and they fell into an uneasy silence.

After a few moments of awkward staring, Spock remembered his initial motivations for approaching her and said, "I have a small confession to make."

"A confession?" she asked, her breathing shallow and her stance wary.

"Yes. While the holodeck is indeed fascinating, it was not my purpose for coming here."

Her eyes glittered apprehensively. "Then what was your reason?"

"Captain Kirk informed me you had intercepted some Reman pictographs you had difficulty deciphering. I came to offer my services if you would like help translating them," Spock said, hoping she would recognize his proffered olive branch. What he did not notice was the dim fire in her eyes that suddenly flared back to life as her breathing became ragged. By the time he became aware that she was no longer in control, it was too late. Her countenance was one of sudden outrage, pulsing with indignation…the caged beast set free. He tried to discern where Nyota had disappeared to in this blaze of anger and came to the frightening conclusion that she had not disappeared at all. This was the place her emotions had been relegated to and what he was witnessing was her pressure release.

"That's your confession?" she said, her voice rising. "No admission," She advanced on him. "No _apology_," A complex tight-tuck roll around him. "Only an offer…" He felt her left hand reach to his right shoulder and roughly spin him around, placing her right palm flat against his sternum and pushing. "Of help?" In a flash, she'd hooked her leg behind his right knee and jerked it back, characteristic of an obscure branch of the art. Startled, he could only reach for her outstretched hand as he fell. But her leg was still trapped beneath his and she fell into a kneeling position beside him, smoldering embers dancing in her irises. Her grip on his hand tightened as she pinned his arm to the ground and bent down to whisper, "Why would I accept help from someone who would only disappear?"

That was when his world exploded.

* * *

A/N: o_O Dun-dun-DUUUNNNNNN! While you got two chapters, it came with the stipulation of a slight cliffie. But there we have it: a confrontation at last! While it might not have been what some of you were looking for, it is what it is. I would like to beg each and every one of my readers not to draw conclusions as to Nyota's emotional nature (e.g. that she is permanently inclined to be vindictive)! I can only hope you hang on until the next installment.

Oh, almost forgot: English translation: _sahaisaya_ : expulsion


	13. 12: Hell Hath No Fury

**Klacha Por'sen** by WikedFae

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**Chapter Twelve: Hell Hath No Fury**

"_Why would I accept help from someone who would only disappear?"_

_That was when his world exploded._

It was pain like he'd never experienced before; his veins felt as if they'd ignited, burning with no relief, while his hand felt as if it were holding a reacting warp coil and not entwined with Nyota's fingers. The familiar feeling of anger tore through his body followed by shock after shock of something he thought he could identify as betrayal. In his minds' eye, he saw pillars of trust disintegrating into sand as a fierce cry of anguish enveloped him in a storm of malcontent and hurt. He struggled to breathe with the sudden oppressive weight crushing him. Miraculously, his vision temporarily cleared and he saw Nyota hovering above him, a look of abject horror and disbelief on her face. And as quickly as the moment of clarity had arrived, it was snatched away as he was torn along an undercurrent of gnawing grief and rampant resentment. He sensed the accusations along with the uncertainty permeating the voice that was condemning him. His vision clouded as he drowned in murky waters and all he could see was the color of her eyes. But those cool browns that had so often brought him comfort in the past were ablaze, flashing of amber and flame, blinding him and leaving him disoriented in these fathoms of an unfamiliar heart. Its pulse was strong and urgent, buffeting him from all sides, persistent and unyielding as he hung in its ebb and flow. The natural inclination to fight was forgotten and in the stifling heat surrounding him, he submitted. And as quickly as it had started, the inferno dissipated, only to be replaced by stabs of ice that burned with their own sharp fury. Invisible spindles of frost crept over his skin and he found himself shivering involuntarily. He was shaken to the core and his breath rattled in his lungs. Desperately, he gazed into the once brown expanse, now a cloudy white. But something was different, Spock realized as he stared through those hazy mists. Beyond the obscuring fog were shapes. Another difference: the cold was slowly receding, the stabs of pain came less frequently. The shapes were solidifying, the fog lifting. A hand, a shoulder…a face. And a whisper.

"Spock?" Her voice was trembling. "Spock?" she called again.

Visibly frightened, she extricated her fingers from his and scuffled away from his prone form. "What have I done?" she whispered. Gasping, she brought a shaking hand to her mouth to stifle a cry.

Guilt surged through his gut; he tried to speak to her but his voice refused to utter any sound closely resembling speech. The only sound that left his lips was a weak moan.

At his groan, she looked up with bright eyes. "Spock! Can you hear me?" She crawled back next to him but made no move to touch him.

With great difficulty, he managed to blink and give her a small nod. He felt a cold sweat drenching his clothing and beads of moisture meandering down his brow, but as he made to wipe them away, his body betrayed him. It was with a monumental effort that he managed to bring his arm up, but the tremors that ripped through the limb were so severe, he could only watch in defeat as his muscles gave out and his hand unceremoniously slumped back onto the ground.

"Spock…" she said, apparently attempting to be pragmatic about the situation even as the tears coursing down her cheeks destroyed the weak illusion. "Spock, we need to get you to Sick-Bay. Can you…do you think you can walk?"

A harsh shudder wracked his frame as he tried to explain he could barely move his arm. This seemed to harden her resolve and she moved forward to help him up. Unintentionally, he flinched and she froze, hands millimeters from his shoulders.

She took a low breath and bit her lip before saying, "Sick-Bay isn't far. Just down the hall to the turbolift and up two decks. Let me at least get you up there. After that I'll leave you alone." Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed him with unexpected strength and forced him to his feet. She slung his arm around her neck and grasped his wrist, careful to stay away from his palm. Securely, she wrapped her other arm around his waist and steadied his swaying frame. Tentatively, he extended his foot and swung forward to put his weight on it. Nyota moved with him and slowly, step by step, they made their way towards Sick-Bay.

Spock was still very dazed but the glare of the hallway lights brought with it an intriguing observation. Detached as he felt from his own body, he turned his attention towards the occasional passing crew member, who upon noticing them seemed to suffer an internal struggle of whether or not to extend an offer of help. Perhaps it was because of his appearance or because of Nyota's reputation on board, but any offers died on the crew members lips. Glancing down, he noticed Nyota's profile contorted in a sad grimace, the occasional tear welling up before she choked it down again. Her steps were sure, but her breathing labored; her ribcage expanded erratically against his side as she supported his weight and he could sense her shoulders straining to help keep him upright. But she pushed onwards, through the stillness hanging over them both. The silence ran thick between them. Words would never survive the void.

Entering the turbolift brought no relief to the mounting tension as Spock became wary of her close proximity. Even as his brain muddled through the disorientation of the moment, treacherous thoughts started emerging in startling clarity. The illusion he'd harbored for all those years lay wholly broken at his feet; the kindred eyes of a past long gone blankly peered out from those shards of shattered imagery.

He was at an utter loss of what to do, but it wasn't only for his lack of experience in a situation such as this. The furtive glances he shot her as she readjusted her posture to match his weight sang of mistrust and suspicion. But detached as he was, weariness overtook him and he slipped away, unable and unwilling to fight for the logical structuring his existence had depended on not more than an hour ago. The only role he had the strength to play was that of the passive observer and as the haze usurped his vision once more, two questions filled his thoughts. Why was she helping him? And why was he letting her?

He was partially roused from his stupor when he heard the _whoosh_ of the Sick-Bay doors and Nyota cry out in a broken voice, "Leonard! I need your help!"

Faintly, he heard the reply. "Don't tell me you got hurt in the holodeck _again_. This is the second time this month." The voice escalated and Spock presumed McCoy was approaching from the depths of the medical wing. "You obviously made it up here on your own so it can't be—good God! What happened?"

Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and Spock felt as he was hauled over to one of the beds. Sinking deep into the cushioning, he heard the hypnotic beeping and whirring of the biofunction monitor that was soon followed by the chirping of McCoy's medical tricorder. Phasing out the sounds, Spock valiantly tried to focus on the conversation playing out before him.

"Uhura, what happened?"

"I don't know, I don't really remember much."

"You have to remember something."

"I—" she stopped short and looked away.

"What aren't you telling me? Physically, he's fine—at least no injuries. He's practically tachycardic for one of his species and his breathing isn't regular. Those things can't just spontaneously happen."

"I—" Again she came up short. McCoy's irritation showed as he snapped the tricorder shut and went to stand beside her.

"I need to know. Are you going to tell me or not?" he asked, spinning her around to face him.

At his touch she seemed to break. "I did this!" she cried out, batting his hands away from her. With a sob, she spun around to hide her face as tears spilled forth and the dam of her resolve crumbled.

"What?" McCoy was thoroughly perplexed. "What are you talking about?"

Her chest heaved as she drew in breath after breath, a few strangled cries left her lips and she grabbed the examination table to steady herself.

"Maybe you should sit down and explain everything from the beginning," McCoy said, pulling up a chair and gently steering her towards it before coming back around the bed to resume taking readings. Turning aside briefly he called out, "Nurse Chapel! Get me some chamomile tea from the replicator."

"Tea?" Nyota questioned weakly from her seat across from him.

"Yes. Tea. No arguments."

Peripherally, Spock felt a pinch and realized McCoy had administered what appeared to be lectrazine. Slowly but surely, he noticed his heart rate stabilizing and his vision clearing enough to see Nurse Chapel enter and press a small mug of tea into Nyota's shaking hands.

McCoy grabbed another stool, placed it opposite her and sat down, his chin resting on his steepled fingers. "So, aside from the tears and tremors, are _you_ alright?"

She swallowed thickly and managed a shaky nod.

"No physical injuries or conditions I'm going to have to treat?"

"No, Leonard. Nothing like that," she said as she shook her head and gave him a watery half-smile.

"Then do you want to enlighten me as to what the hell happened?"

"Not particularly…"

"Uhura…"

She sat in silence, cradling the mug and peering into its depths as if the secret of how to escape the situation floated in the synthesized dregs.

"I…I never thought it would work."

McCoy was wise enough not to comment for fear of having her shut down again.

"It was something I learned to do on Betazed. It gave me something to work towards and planted a dangerous idea in my head. I was just so angry when I left for the surface and it seemed to provide an answer to my problems. For years, I thought it was a long shot at best. I never even knew if he would come back aboard. In my mind, I knew it wasn't right to nurture this vengeful thought, but my heart never listened. Why did I think this would bring me relief in the end?" She gazed imploringly at McCoy.

Dumbfounded, he asked, "Can you tell me what happened? What worked?"

She sniffed as she turned her gaze towards the figure on the bed. Spock felt a nagging sense of anticipation followed by a rankling of dread at what she was about to reveal. In the pit of his stomach, he knew whatever she had done to manage what she had, it was his fault. And even though he recognized his own culpability, the pain he'd experienced was still too fresh. He knew if she were to reach out to him now, he would recoil from her touch. The obvious mistrust she'd developed was now mutual and quickly eroding a chasm between them.

"I made him feel," she said quietly.

"And it did this to him?" McCoy breathed.

"No, I made him feel five years of hurt and betrayal. That's what did this." She hung her head in shame. "Why didn't anyone rob me of my vengeance?"

"Uhura," McCoy said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder, "how were we to know we needed to, let alone how to manage a heist like that?"

A gasp slipped between her lips as a fresh wave of tears leaked from her eyes. Turning to face the doctor, she latched onto his hand and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Spock felt his throat tighten as she inevitably turned to him and reached out with the same apology, but before her hands could find purchase on his arm, he flinched away, knowing he was only hurting her more, but reacting out of self-preservation.

Seeing his reaction made her eyes shine brightly and she abruptly turned asking, "Leonard…maybe it's best if I leave. Please."

McCoy's expression showed he was not at all pleased with her decision, her request, or her behavior, but understanding the delicacy of the situation allowed her to withdraw to his office. Once she had left, he set about ensuring Spock's vitals were indeed stable.

"I want to keep you here for a few hours longer, Spock. Just for observation. She might have told me what she did, but I have no idea how she did it. I'll make a note in the log so the captain doesn't have a conniption when his science officer doesn't report for duty." As he turned around to leave, Spock caught the muttered words, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, that's for sure."

Retreating, McCoy left Spock alone in the wing to contemplate those words and headed back towards his office, presumably for a long and uncomfortable discussion.

Nyota's revelation and McCoy's parting words haunted him long after they'd both returned to other duties; as the afternoon dragged on, elusive sleep eventually found Spock, but dreams of an unfamiliar land where everything he touched deteriorated plagued him until he woke.

* * *

A/N: My apologies for having this up later than usual today. I was doing battle all of yesterday and this morning to rid my computer of an insidious virus. But it's all good and no files were lost! Unfortunately, I have a bit of sad news: I will not have internet access two weeks from now, so I am trying to finish another chapter as quickly as possible, but in the event I cannot upload it, I will give it my all to have a double update three weeks from now (approximately). I sincerely hope this chapter is met with approval and pray it meets expectations.


	14. 13: Shards of Trust

**Klacha Por'sen** by WikedFae

**

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Chapter Thirteen: Shards of Trust**

Uhura lay in silence once again, curled on her bunk, staring dispassionately out the window as infinity spread out before her…and she felt small. The tears had dried hours ago but the salty streaks were still present. There was nothing left for her to cry; she was hollow and remorseful. How could she have let it come to that? Thinking back, she remembered their tentative sparring that had evolved into something more serious. Vaguely, she recalled him commenting on the holodeck programming, but after that her mind jammed. Closing her eyes, she breathed in and out, trying to lure the elusive memory from the depths of her mind. And moments later, the memory in terrifying clarity rose from the haze and she recoiled as his fateful words echoed through her ears once more. She saw the rage flare in her eyes, flexing the muscles that had lain dormant for so long. The last time she had lashed out with such intensity had been almost ten months ago. She'd known since he came aboard that his mere presence had stoked the slow burn but his improper use of a word as weighty as 'confession' had been the ultimate the catalyst to the inferno. Deep within, an infinitesimal part rejoiced but her rationality was without mercy as it beat down upon the rogue elation. It had all gone so horribly wrong. When she'd first suspected the tension would eventually snap between them, she'd never considered the possibility it would end with Spock lying in Sick-Bay nor had she thought herself capable of such reaction. A few years ago, yes, when she'd coveted her plan and her emotions had kept it close to her heart. But in the last few years, that need had faded…at least she thought it had…a thought that had been proved incorrect given her behavior earlier that day. Just as she'd thought vengeance had dissipated, it had roared to life with such intensity, possessing her through its manipulative seduction and she loathed herself for succumbing.

Not only had she given the few true friends she had a reason to be concerned and possibly fear her…she'd seen the door of opportunity slam shut the second Spock had flinched away from her touch. Whatever residual trust he'd had in her was shattered. She had been on the verge of giving up hope of ever finding an answer to her years of misguided and shameful behavior; now she would have to traverse a desert full of shards to even reach out to him and the key he held. She supposed that closure could be found, now that both of them had hurt the other, but quickly banished that thought for its sheer perversion. She did not want to go the path of an eye for an eye and was strangely relieved that Spock was not entirely human, for once. But her relief was short-lived and its spark was quickly snuffed out as she thought back to what had unfolded in Sick-Bay earlier.

Her discussion with McCoy had been uncomfortable, to say the least. Still shaking from her emotional outburst and its aftermath on Spock, she could barely look at Leonard for how ashamed she felt.

"You want to tell me exactly what happened from the beginning?" The words were kind, but his tone was harsh, emphasizing that speaking candidly was exactly what he expected.

"I was in the holodeck—"

"Gathered that."

"Do you want your questions answered or not?" she snapped back.

He retreated behind his desk, eyes lowered as he reevaluated the situation. "I'm sorry, I'm just trying to determine what led to me acquiring a new patient," he said, visibly infusing calm into his voice.

She studied the trinkets displayed inconspicuously on the shelf behind his desk before continuing; her voice steadied the more intently she gazed at the ancient medical equipment and avoided his warm brown eyes.

"I was in the holodeck, winding down from my shift, trying to ignore the tension that's been building between us,"—she vaguely gestured in the direction of the wing—"Generally trying to get through the day…the door opened, I heard it. He came in, told me you and Jim had let him know where I was…he seemed to want to talk. All I wanted to do was head any conversation off at the pass. We started sparring like we used to…after that I don't remember much. He stopped the fight and I remember trying to come down from the rush…he said _something_ and that's where my brain cuts out. The next thing I recall is pinning his arm to the ground…he was shaking and gasping for air…" She shuddered. "…Leonard, it was horrible and I didn't know what to do." The trembling of her voice returned with a vengeance as she turned to meet his gaze with imploring, damp eyes.

"But…" McCoy spoke, thoroughly bewildered, "…you said you made him feel. Now you're telling me you had him pinned and remember nothing else. It can't be both, so how do you know that's what you did?"

"Because I'm speaking with you rationally. It gets clear after the outburst subsides."

"You mean you've experienced this before?" he asked, scandalized.

"Every once in a while, if I get caught up in the moment, in the feelings," she supplied. "It's a chain reaction; he couldn't have known the trigger and I've never successfully stopped an outburst…not that I've ever needed to before."

"You said you learned this on Betazed…was this some way you needed to communicate with them?"

"Not precisely. I encountered children afflicted with a disease that rendered their empathic abilities useless, effectively shielding them from empathic probing of their society. They undergo daily training similar to what I did to integrate with the traditional structure."

"But humans aren't empathic and Spock's not Betazoid, so how was all this possible?" he asked, critically.

"Just because humans aren't empathic doesn't mean our emotions have no central point of origin. Our emotions are there for them to perceive, and no amount of trying will hide the feelings or dissuade them from looking. It was easier for me to adjust to their culture this way, so I practiced with the children in the afternoons—never using emotions that stemmed from negative experiences, but those generated from fond memories. It brought me temporary solace…solace and peace of mind I hadn't had for months…it became addicting in the end, actually. Those weeks of running into emotional dead-ends, tying myself into knots over something I couldn't comprehend after being blind-sided…I didn't want to be angry all the time. I'd had enough of living in that state, and not being able to escape it any other way it suddenly became easier to live without a smile on my face when I knew hours later I could laugh more deeply than I ever had before. It worked wonderfully at first…but there was an oversight. It didn't occur to me until a year later, but by condensing my emotions, I unknowingly gave anger a breeding ground. By the time it emerged back into my consciousness, betrayal had festered, malcontent broiled, and every negative instinct had grown into a monster I could no longer control…" she drifted off.

"For five years?" McCoy breathed. "That's why you always used the holodeck? To be alone? To be alone even when you were _happy_ and should have had a friend with whom to share it?"

The hurt in his eyes was evident and she again felt the pang of remorse at having pushed him from her life with such force. It hadn't been fair to any of her friends and she only had her weak will and the costly allure of emotional relief to blame for it. Gently, she reached across the table to clasp his arm. When he met her gaze, she made sure he would see her sincerity as she said, "It was wrong of me to do and if I'd been in a position to recognize the loyalty of those close to me, I wouldn't have persevered down that path. I am sorry for a past I cannot change."

He smiled sadly and sat in contemplative silence before returning to the more pressing topic. "That explains what you did," he started, "but it still doesn't clarify Spock's reaction. He's not empathic."

"But he _is_ partially telepathic."

"Telepathic and empathic are entirely different things," he asserted.

"Not for those Betazoid children, and apparently not for Spock either, evidenced by the fact I incapacitated him." She winced as another wave of residual blame broke over her heart.

"You _knew_ he would react that way when you fired off?"

"I was not convinced, but it was a hypothesis my mind had mulled over. Little things he'd said in the years I'd known him…hints, innuendos…it started coming together in my mind and in its own twisted way, the idea made sense. Beyond what my mind postulated, I can't tell you."

"So, there was no substantiated proof for your idea and what? This turned out to be the biggest coincidence in the history of wrathful acts? Sorry, but leaving that out of the equation for a moment, I'm still trying to wrap my mind around your monumentally misguided decision, Uhura."

Though wounded, she still bristled in defense. "Misguided? Yes. Rational? No. Logical? Definitely not. But how would you have felt in my place if you had lived a life like mine? From the moment I could understand speech, it was always made clear that whatever I wanted to achieve in life, it would be my responsibility to foster the drive for excellence. The ultimate dishonor would be for me to disrespect myself, to capitulate, and watch my dream slip through my slackened fingers. The solution was simple: what I wanted, I found a way to deserve, from passing each linguistics exam with flying colors, to my assignment on the _Enterprise_. When push came to shove, I was persistent to the point of ruthlessness sometimes. But the same persistence that pervaded my academic and working life, also had its own presence in my personal relationships. My relationship with Spock did not have the lecherous beginnings of student-favoritism my classmates often espoused. It was something I wanted. Not only that, but I am convinced it was _mutually_ sought. Five years ago, I watched it be snatched away, even as I'd reverently held it in my hands. And what had I done? Where had it gone wrong? I've never found that answer…not even to this day. All I knew was that years of a life I'd been content with, one of sharing and learning, suddenly lay destroyed at my feet. It was abrupt—no doubt something he felt would be easier for me to handle emotionally, when all it did was leave everything severed, bleeding and unanswered. You and Jim didn't know him like I did; while things he said might have been perceived as callous, intolerant and hurtful, this was pure betrayal and disregard for me, not just as someone significant in his life, but as a person. He left me searching for the solution he took with him and without an explanation or way to turn back time, _I saw my dream shatter_. So while my behavior has been far from exemplary, it emerged from an unfamiliar situation that in turn had been caused by his grave miscalculation, so don't go pinning it all on me, Leonard." She fell silent as he regarded her, a mix of sympathy and residual disappointment emanating from his chastised eyes.

The sigh he heaved only served to remind Uhura how unwieldy her predicament was.

"You do realize," he said after a length silence, "That no matter how much I comprehend and sympathize with what you went through, this is still a violation I have to report. I'm sure Jim will see that it does not come to a court-martial and he may find a way to keep it off your record officially, but an attack on a senior officer, regardless of provocation, requires disciplinary action be taken."

She nodded meekly, a resurgence of guilt washing through her gut.

Nothing more had been said and the tension in office ran so thick, she excused herself, telling McCoy she would return to her quarters immediately and await Kirk's inevitable, impending visit. Without waiting for acknowledgement, she rapidly withdrew, slipping out the door before another word could be spoken.

As she walked back through the wing, she chanced a glance at the figure lying at the far end of the room. Weariness had etched deep lines in his face and exhaustion had pressed dark circles beneath his eyes; his sunken appearance likened him to a corpse, the only sign of life was the rhythmic beeping of the biomonitor and the occasional flutter of eyelashes as sleep eluded him.

A tear swelled in her eye again, one of many held back for too many years. Not able to approach him, she had vacated Sick-Bay, the image of his broken form haunting her steps as she'd made her way back to her quarters.

Which brought her back to listlessly staring out the window, thoughts running pell-mell through her mind, flitting by so fast she had no chance to ponder them.

The chime that rang through her chambers an indeterminate time later resounded with finality and judgment, stealing the will from her limbs as she dragged herself from her solitude and went to answer the door. Though she knew who would be standing in the threshold before she punched the button on the access panel, she was still taken aback when the face she looked upon was drawn in a haggard grimace.

"Would you like to explain why I am going to be running a flagship with neither a primary science nor communications officer in the upcoming weeks?" he asked in an exasperated and agitated tone.

Ste stepped aside to allow him entrance and attempted to surreptitiously scrub the tear-streaks from her face.

"I understand that disciplinary action must be taken—wait, weeks? I was under the impression Spock's condition was not serious enough to warrant extended time in Sick-Bay." Her brow furrowed and her eyes took on a fearful quality.

"I have come to the decision to downgrade you both to Inactive Reserve status aboard the _Enterprise _until further notice."

"But, I attacked him, not the other way around. Why is he receiving this status demotion as well?"

"Because I discussed this with both of you. I wanted assurance this would not interfere with your professional duties. Not only am I not assured—I am convinced there can be nothing _but _interference! You are both assigned to this vessel under my command and until you find a way to resolve this, I do not see reason to allow you to resume your posts. You both may be granted access to the bridge when I deem you deserving." His disappointment was clear, belied by his curt and clipped tone and Uhura shrank back internally as he echoed her own words, spoken only hours earlier. "I thought pushing him to talk to you would start thawing out the bridge when you were both on duty, and I was wrong in that regard."

"Sir, you also said you would try to find an alternative in there were irreconcilable differences."

"You think I consider these irreconcilable differences? No. See, Uhura, I call these _unresolved issues_, and stubborn ones at that. Being a linguist I though you would appreciate the distinction. If these unresolved issues _become_ irreconcilable differences, _then_ I will think about a permanent solution. Until then, I'd rather retain you both; I'll be just as stubborn as you to keep you in some professional capacity."

She knew Jim will enough to recognize his subtle hint. _Professional capacity_. It had been exactly what had been expected of both her and Spock and it was what she had lost track of as that emotional tidal wave had crashed overhead. It also indicated he was reserving his true judgment until later, based on how the situation unfolded. While it wasn't exactly the most comforting thought, it was infinitely better than the outcome she'd already imagined. She felt a clap on her shoulder and Kirk's face swam back into focus as she looked up.

"Uhura, I…look, you know you'll always get second chances from me." He shot her a small smile, although it wavered with sympathetic understanding and something else she couldn't quite identify. And as quickly as he'd flashed this modicum of vulnerability, he cleared his throat and attempted to salvage his image. "But…ahem...this second chance is going to have to last for you both. He won't get the same courtesy."

"And why would that be?" she asked, humoring him in his attempt to maintain the stern expression.

"Simple. He bungled up the second one I gave him. That, and he knew what he had to begin with. It's already two strikes against him. I don't want to be the one to throw the third pitch and have him be out. What team do you think I'm on?"

"Seriously? A sports metaphor?" She gave him a small grin of thankfulness.

"This isn't over. It's just beginning, Uhura. I don't want to have to come down here again regarding this unpleasant business." He leveled his eyes with hers; the gravity in his gaze weighed heavy on her psyche and long after he'd vacated her quarters, she was left contemplating how much her friendships had been affected and pondering what her next steps would be…and if she would go on alone…or if, perhaps, there was the smallest chance a second set of footprints would walk beside hers.

* * *

A/N: Wow. Umm. There's no other way to say this, but I am so very sorry to all my readers! Real life came to smack me in the face and my time away from the internet and society wasn't quite as relaxing as I'd hoped. Plain and simple: I didn't get much writing done. The next chapter is being written and I feel horrible for having to rescind my previous statement that a double update would be published. Though I will continue trying my best to churn out chapters, my semester has officially begun, bringing with it experiments and thesis responsibilities. My apologies in advance if I can't maintain the same updating schedule I've had since April. Hopefully this chapter serves as a better olive branch than Spock's offer of help!


	15. 14: The Bite of Doubt

**Klacha Por'sen** by WikedFae

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**Chapter Fourteen: The Bite of Doubt**

Spock woke to the harsh, sterile light of Sick-Bay a few hours later, feeling very much as though he'd been mauled by a wild _sehlat_. His extremities ached when he moved, his ribs seemed to crackle when he took deep breaths, and his head throbbed when he looked around. His eyes scanned the room lethargically as he searched for another presence. While he recognized the need to find Nyota, he also heeded his rationality as it reminded him who was responsible for his incapacitation. His sense of relief was palpable as he locked eyes with Dr. McCoy who had struck a rather convincing casual pose, leaning up against the far wall, but the look in the doctor's eyes was too inquisitive—too deductive—to be hidden away, even after years of training.

"Good to see you're awake, Spock," he said, coming over to stand next to him. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Yes—" he broke off as he felt his throat seize up as dry air from his lungs rasped against his trachea. Once he felt he could properly explain, he tentatively continued, "…partially. The trip from the holodeck to Sick-Bay is incomplete, but otherwise, I can recall everything."

"Your vitals are stable again, luckily. Are you in any pain?"

"Not actively. It's more a residual soreness when I move."

"Not surprising given how Uhura said you'd suffered prolonged muscle spasms. Anything else?"

"Some mild vertigo."

"Then I'll discharge you for now, but if the vertigo persists, you come right back here."

Thinking he was free to go, Spock made to push himself up but was stopped when McCoy put his hand firmly on his shoulder. "I didn't say we were finished. There are some unanswered questions I still have."

A nagging started in the pit of his stomach, but Spock pushed passed it, certain that ignoring this matter would not make things easier. Relaxing again, he glanced back at McCoy. "I cannot guarantee I will have all the answers, doctor; I had assumed Lieutenant Uhura explained what happened."

"She did enlighten me to some of what happened; unfortunately she doesn't remember everything either. She told me about your fight but couldn't remember why her memory blacked out. She surmised you had said something to her while she was in a precarious emotional state, which apparently tipped her over the edge. Do you remember what you said?"

"I…I had wanted to find an appropriate avenue to approach Nyota after our time apart, especially given the awkward nature of our interactions. The captain had pointed out a prospective opportunity earlier. Following his advice, I attempted to offer my services in translating intercepted Reman pictographs."

Spock got the distinct impression McCoy was regarding him as though he'd grown a second head or lost all common sense. He was reassured of this when McCoy opened his mouth. "That in and of itself was monumentally stupid of you. And of the captain." At this, Spock scrutinized McCoy. It wasn't like the doctor to critique their commanding officer. "Here we've all been expecting your time on Vulcan not to have changed you. And I thought you were clueless about emotions five years ago."

"Then I should not have approached her with this offer?" Spock asked.

"No, it was a good idea of Jim's, but it was the wrong time for you to act on it. Uhura's disposition the last few years has been extremely altered…more altered than I'd ever imagined..." he drifted off before gathering his thoughts again. "She's been tied up in knots about your presence on the ship. A raw discussion would have been more prudent before launching into building a new rapport with her."

"I see," Spock said, disquieted that he had not truly seen her distress through his own anxiety and hastiness.

"Now," McCoy said, indicating a change in topic, "I wanted to know if you could describe a mind meld for me."

"Mind melds are of a very personal nature, Doctor McCoy," Spock said, hesitating.

"I know; believe me, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

He took a breath, realizing to skirt the issue would prove futile. "A mind meld is psionic technique—a telepathic link—between two individuals initiated by intense concentration and—in the case of Vulcans—the addition of physical contact, generally with the initiator placing the fingertips to pressure points on the participants face. If the link is successful, information and experiences can be shared by the individuals."

"What about emotions?" McCoy pressed.

Spock's eyes widened as he realized what McCoy was implying. "…It rarely occurs, but accompanying emotions to a vivid experience can be transferred."

"And you just happened to forget about that fact after you ignored human courtesy and sparred with your ex. Great, just great. Well, that about sums up the whole calamity," he drawled.

"But, how was Nyota capable of such an action?"

"She wasn't too clear on how…she hedged around it a bit. I don't know the method, but she seemed to think your reaction was linked to the fact you are partially telepathic via mind meld. Betazoids aren't nearly as restricted in their abilities, apparently."

"There is no prior occurrence of such an interaction in Vulcan history, as far as I am aware. Typically, there has to be the motivation to initiate the process for both parties. This is not always the case, but what she has achieved is extremely unusual," Spock stated calmly.

"How can you just lie here and mull this over when she practically beat you into the ground with emotional baggage only a few hours ago?" McCoy gave him an incredulous look. "Jim was convinced you Vulcans feel emotions besides anger, despite that green blood running through your veins. As of four hours ago, I had proof of that…losing my bet in the process…and now you're tucked up tighter than a snail, no sign of feeling from your shell. You should at least _acknowledge_ that this affected you!"

"Why do you assume," Spock said, struggling into a reclining position, "that I am denying what I experienced? While I use logic like any other Vulcan to navigate the treacherous pitfalls of emotion, do not presume that I am _unaffected_, doctor."

McCoy was visible disquieted, his posture rigid and taut, as if he were physically containing an internal explosion. Truthfully, Spock could feel his human side stirring, unprepared for another rigorous onslaught, quaking from the paranoia that the next tempest was on the horizon. He was well aware the doctor had reservations about him and therefore unsure of how far McCoy would bend until breaking and expressing his utmost displeasure at the situation. So when McCoy seemed to deflate before his eyes, the only thing that registered with Spock was shock and surprise.

McCoy's shoulders sank along with his gaze and he took on a weary air. It looked as though he were debating saying something else when he was interrupted by the _whoosh_ of the doors. The movement grabbed the attention of both men and in unison they looked towards the entrance in time to see the captain stride into the wing.

Kirk's gait was purposeful, his manner stern and expression grim. Walking over to the doctor, Spock noticed as Kirk threw him a side-long glance before turning his attention fully to McCoy.

"He okay?"

"Yeah…not too much to worry about. How's Uhura?"

"It's funny, I can actually tell she's upset. That hasn't happened in ages."

"Well that's a plus. Seems like her coping mechanism might have rubbed off on him, though. Logic's back with force." McCoy grimaced slightly, his distaste etched clearly in his features.

"If that's the case, then maybe it won't be hard to understand what I have to say next," Kirk said, turning around to finally include Spock in the conversation.

The brief flash of irritation Spock had felt at being ignored gave way to apprehension. He chose to remain silent.

"I just informed Lieutenant Uhura she has been switched to Inactive Reserve status indefinitely. Do you agree with my decision to do the same with you?" Kirk fixed him with his stare.

Spock analyzed the proposition carefully before addressing the captain. "Sir, while I understand the need to reprimand the lieutenant for misconduct, I believe I am capable of adequately fulfilling my duties and must inquire as to your reasoning."

Kirk leveled his gaze at McCoy and said, "I thought you said logic was back in full force. You sure nothing more serious happened?" before turning his attention back to Spock and continuing, "I sort of remember saying something along the lines of 'I strongly suggest you figure out a way to make it work. I don't care how, just as long as the functioning of this ship is not disrupted.' Do you consider the mishap on the holodeck to fall outside the parameters of 'ship function disruptions?'"

"No, I do not."

"Then are you under the impression that your miscalculation—brought about by my gesture of good will and advice—was acceptable, ergo you get off scot-free?" Kirk seemed incensed as his brow knit together and he approached the bed.

Spock held his gaze steadily while he attempted to see the situation from Kirk's point of view. A chilling blow accompanied the harsh reality when he finally discerned the predicament. He had unintentionally disobeyed an implicit order from his superior officer. He had fallen victim to his own emotions; concern for Nyota and their mangled relationship had clouded his judgment…once again, he had compromised himself and others and the thought brought with it the taste of acid on his tongue. Eventually he said, "…No. I am not."

"Good to know reason still wins out," the captain muttered. After clearing his throat he continued, "I don't believe I'm wrong in thinking you will use your time wisely."

"No. I will reevaluate my actions from the last few days. However, in the event that Lieutenant Uhura and I reach an impasse—"

"Then we'll deal with it when we get to it," snapped Kirk, his patience clearly waning.

McCoy stepped forward, much to Spock's relief, and did his best to diffuse the growing tension. "As long as we're clear on the immediate details, I'll go ahead and file a discharge notice, okay, Jim?"

"Hey, I'm not the patient here. But once you're discharged, Commander, I expect you to report to your quarters. What exactly you choose to do with your 'free-time' isn't any of my business, but I'll pitch this idea to you anyway. If I find out that nothing more has been done to fix this wreck between you two…well, I don't think I need to repeat my previous warning." The look of blatant irritation on Kirk's face left little to the imagination and Spock nodded his understanding mutely.

A curt nod in return to the parties in the room and Kirk turned on heel to head towards the exit. The silence echoing through the wing after the doors snapped shut seemed to last an eternity as Spock processed everything that had just happened. Taking stock, he was simultaneously relieved he was still in one piece and disappointed with the reprimand he'd received.

"Alright," McCoy broke into his reverie, "I guess it's time for you to find something more productive to do than take up space in my wing. Come back if the vertigo hits you."

Having seen how easy the emotional tipping points were for his colleagues, Spock found a foreign streak of sarcasm wanting to say, "Or if the captain does," but held his tongue, not wanting to antagonize the doctor.

With respectful obedience, Spock levered himself off the bed, thanked McCoy, and beat a swift retreat back to his quarters once he felt sure his body could endure and sustain the quick pace. His rooms gave him a cool welcome and he immediately increased the ambient temperature before procuring his meal in a mechanical and detached manner. The captain's advice had been sound, he thought, but he was still at a loss of how to broach the subject with Nyota. He didn't want to seem petulant in this regard, but having erred so egregiously in his previous attempt compounded with his lack of experience in a personal matter such as this, left him unsure. Of all the emotions he could classify as having experienced, uncertainty was one of his least favorite. It contradicted his every move and lurked in the recesses of his mind, injecting its poisonous doubt into the logical pillars of his structuring. He knew allowing this doubt to creep through each and every thought would leave him paralyzed, unable to make a single decision thus ensuring Kirk would need to make good on his warning—not to mention irrevocably condemning and destroying the last hopes of a reconciliation that still now burned within him, spurred on by his determination to succeed as well as his desperation to emerge from the lonely existence he now led. So, even with the teeth of doubt sunk deep into his soul, he stared down at Nyota's picture, resolved to find a way to shake the monster loose.

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A/N: Oh joyous day, an UPDATE! Family matters, travel plans, and a wonderful conundrum of thesis were determined to block my path, but I managed to squeeze past enough to finish this chapter for all my readers! To all of you following this story (quietly lurking or actively reviewing) I extend my heartfelt thanks that you're sticking with me! Hits are love and reviews are the icing on the cake! :D


	16. 15: Close Encounters

**Klacha Por'sen** by WikedFae

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**Chapter Fifteen: Close Encounters**

_I don't believe it_, thought Uhura as she rounded the bend into mess hall. It had been less than a week since she and Spock had been listed as Inactive Reserve, but if anything, she saw more of him now than she had before. His black shock of hair was evident at the far side of the room, his head bent over his meal with no company at the table. Every time she had crossed paths with him, it seemed he was alone. She grimaced at the irony; five years and they'd both regressed. It was pitiful in its own way how the single action that had torn them asunder had also left them isolated, rendering them incapable of contact or connection. Disappointment and guilt surged through her every minute as she observed just what her life had become. While she understood her friends had sympathized, it was small consolation when she saw how much her silence had hurt them all.

Deep in contemplation after taking her meal from the replicator, she searched for a far corner, away from everyone else, knowing it would take time to start bridging the chasm her self-imposed seclusion had caused. And just as it would take time, it would also have to be done carefully—and without an expression of self-pity on her face to initiate questions about well being. Schooling her features into what she hoped was a light-hearted, welcoming expression instead of her usual cool demeanor she set about digging into her meal, absentmindedly staring across the mess at the back of Spock's head.

He had turned slightly, so his sharp profile became the target of her scrutiny as she marveled at how his reappearance on the ship and in her life had so drastically shifted everything. Not that she should have expected any less, but the degree to which she was readjusting was frightening. Then again, when she was truthful with herself, she was more frightened of staying the same than of changing her ways. Whatever Spock was to become in her life, his intrusion into her stubborn and reclusive ways had relegated him to the epiphanic role for the time being, surprisingly enough. _If it hadn't been for him, _she mused. The aftermath of her attack had filled her with such fear. Fear for Spock of course was immediate; if her emotions could render him unconscious, she would have to ensure such an accident would never again occur, regardless in which personal capacity they would find themselves. But perhaps more disturbing to Uhura was the revelation about her friends. Spock had suffered her wrath for a mere moment; her friends had suffered her resistance for years. An apology would hardly make up for all the silent rejections, all the times she hid herself away…an apology was a pittance, an insult even. Those closest to her deserved more and she had never been more grateful that their loyalty and devotion had allowed them to keep the door open for her to walk through. She would have to show them she could. She would have to smile and laugh and glow. And do all of that in _his_ presence. It truly was a double-edged sword. Either risk her emotional stability or that of her friends. Her gentle smile faltered a bit as she continued to study the catalyst of her predicament. The time for selfishness had come to an end, she knew as she set her jaw. Time for bravery it was then. And all because of that lonesome figure across the mess. That lonesome figure that was slowly and unwittingly showing her where she'd misplaced her courage all those years ago. Her eyes narrowed slightly as new-found thankfulness warred with long-standing bitterness. She didn't know if she could be grateful to him just yet. _But if it hadn't been for him…if it hadn't been for him…_

Lost in thought as she was, it was hardly a wonder the body exhaustedly plunking down in the seat opposite her caused her to start.

"Uhura, even if he could see you looking at him, I doubt he'd have the courage to come over here given that slightly feral look you've got plastered on your face," McCoy ribbed while tiredly rubbing his eyes and nursing a cup of coffee so black, it practically matched the inky space whizzing past the windows.

She responded with a withering glare and made to viciously stab at a runaway vegetable with her fork while he let out a bark of laughter.

"All's still quiet on the western front, I see," McCoy said seriously.

"I guess it's childish of me if I admit part of me would love for it to stay that way?" she asked, faux hopefulness tinting her embarrassment.

"And foolish," he added. "You _do_ want your job back sometime in the next century, right?"

Shoving her meal aside, Uhura propped her head in her hands and gently started massaging her temples. "Touché," she muttered. "You know, Len, when Jim told me I was practically suspended, I was relieved. Relieved that I might have time to sort everything out that's going through my head…figure out how I'm supposed to work with that constant reminder...what?" She broke off as she caught McCoy with a slightly slack-jawed expression on his face.

"Nothing," he said, shaking himself a bit. "It's just something that'll take some getting used to, you know?"

"What will take some getting used to?" she prompted.

"You," he said, gesturing. "You and this…openness. Don't get me wrong—" he hastily added as her expression instinctively began to close, "—it's a good thing…I just need a little time to find which way is up with you again."

"Oh." She ducked her head and gave a slight smile. "You and me both…you and me both." Looking past McCoy's shoulder, she stilled as she met another familiar set of eyes looking in her direction. Quickly, she dropped her gaze and feigned intense interest in her food as she noticed Spock rising from his seat, observing her interaction with the doctor.

McCoy, having taken note of her sudden reaction, voiced his curiosity. "What is it?"

"Nothing, hopefully," she said, staring at him and resolutely ignoring the blurred figure across the mess. It was all she could do to keep the alarmed expression from her face as McCoy made to turn around; her sudden, harsh whisper brought his attention away from rest of the room and back to her. "NO! Please Leonard, don't give him more reason to come over here. I'm not ready yet." Risking the glance, she saw Spock had moved to dispose of his tray but was still throwing the occasional look her way. His movements seemed uncertain, hesitant even, as he walked towards the exit and paused. Peripherally, Uhura noticed McCoy had relaxed into his seat at such an angle as to observe the object of her attention, but her plea died on her lips when she saw Spock's indecisiveness. He'd turned back from the door, but had not made to move closer to her table. His head was bowed, his face obscured, leaving no room for interpretation of what emotions, if any, he was experiencing. _Not that you would be able to tell anymore_, Uhura thought to herself. Those signals and signs she'd relied on all those years ago were long gone, she knew now, their expressive voices only whispers of what they had once been. The only thing she knew for certain was that he was conflicted as he seemed to wrestle with himself, pacing back and forth. She dropped her eyes one more time when she saw him look up and didn't dare lift her gaze again until McCoy uttered a sigh and the doors slid shut.

"Well that was…awkward," he said.

"Thanks, I really needed that pointed out," she retorted as she once again cradled her head in her hands.

"So what's really bothering you about what just happened? Are you more concerned about your own uncertainty," McCoy paused briefly to allow the weight of his question to sink in before continuing with an even weightier ending, "or _his_?"

Her immediate impulse was to berate McCoy for his presumptiveness, but she identified and checked it when she realized that was a prime example of what she would have to change. Instead, she just looked at him with veiled curiosity and asked, "Would you care to elaborate?"

"I don't think I need to," he responded.

Sighing, she caved. "I am concerned. It's not every day my world suffers a paradigm shift, you know."

He gave her a small grin, nodded sagely and motioned for her to continue.

"I made my choice five years ago and have to find my way back somehow. Even though I can't undo the past, I can at least try to take the other road now. It doesn't make up for the lost time with friends, but it's something," she rationalized. "I have to change, but have no idea how to with _him_ around. Then again, I have to if we're to work together. I can't exactly have him pass out every time I come under stress at the console. Of course, this is all based on the assumption that we'll both somehow get our positions on the bridge back. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to Jim for giving me a second chance, but the part of me that's terrified of changing is also extremely pissed at him for forcing the issue. I know it's his prerogative, but it doesn't mean I have to like it." She shot him a rueful smile as she ran out of steam.

"Well," he said, raising his eyebrows and fixing her with his stare, "now that we've established how you feel, have you stopped to consider how Spock is coping with all this?"

She huffed, "I don't even know what's going on in his head, let alone how he's doing!"

"Well, maybe you should ask him?" McCoy prodded.

"Yeah, if he'll let me get near him," she scoffed, trying to ignore the sting of the memory of the attack.

"I'm being serious here, so listen. You didn't see Spock after he woke up. You didn't talk to him. I was just as shocked as the next person to discover he felt something besides anger. Lord knows, you've had more practice reading him in the past, but for those few minutes in Sick-Bay, I saw something I'd never seen in him before. Not ten minutes ago, he was in here shooting glances your way. I'd be willing to bet there's something going on in his mind, but I don't think he knows how to deal with it. You've got two legs up on him already."

"_Two_ legs?"

"I know you're not that dense, Uhura. Try putting yourself in his shoes for a second. First leg: no one on this ship that was ever close to you is going to give him the time of day, either because they can't relate or because they're resentful of his actions that tore you away from them—" he held up his hand to stall her as a look of outrage passed over her face, "—and yes, I know you want to say that logically, you should be shouldering the blame for your decisions, but most other people see things in black and white. They don't stop to think about all the shades of grey. But what this means for him is that he's as alone as he was back at the Academy. This brings me to the second leg. If you were being ignored by everyone around you, what would you do? Eventually, you'd reach out and be able to express feeling slighted, right? What can he do? He's got culture, heritage, _and_ genetics working against him." He stopped and leaned back in his chair before continuing softly, "But somehow, it still doesn't seem to add up." Upon seeing her confused look, he elaborated, "It's something that's been bothering me since he came back aboard asking questions about you. I think we all underestimated how much five years will do to people…especially given the environments in which they grow and change. I have this nagging suspicion that Arus-zal wasn't really what he was looking for when he left. Either that, or it wasn't all that it cracked up to be. Regardless of why, the more pressing thing to consider is what to do now that he's back. He took a step towards you…even though he royally screwed up; so the question is, what step are you going to take in response?" His kind eyes had that irritating, knowing sparkle in them and Uhura couldn't help but be astounded and shake her head.

"How'd you get to be so perceptive, Len?"

"Don't insult me, I'm a doctor. I need to notice details. That, and I know the look he got in his eyes right before chickening out and leaving the mess. If my ex hadn't been such a shrew, I'd have gotten it in my eyes, too. He's more human than I ever thought possible. He just doesn't know what to do with it anymore."

Uhura sighed and met his weighty gaze with a resolved one of her own. The ball was truly in her court now.

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A/N: Ugh. Another chapter up, sadly with little action and less progression than I'd originally intended, but c'est la vie. Hope it was enjoyable, nonetheless! :) But a complete aside: OVER 10,000 hits and looking to break into the TRIPLE DIGITS on reviews! It's more than I ever expected and I can't thank you all enough!


	17. 16: Dawn of Understanding

**Klacha Por'sen** by WikedFae

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**Chapter Sixteen: Dawn of Understanding**

Shadows flickered over Spock's face as the flame of the _asenoi_ sputtered and hissed under the yoke of its lengthening wick. It uttered a final gasp and drowned within the pool of wax engulfing it; his eyes met the darkness of his chambers seconds later. Unfolding himself from his seated position on the floor, he roughly tugged at the hem of his shirt—the only outward sign of his frustration. For hours now, he'd been attempting to meditate, to find some answers to his inability to approach Nyota but had constantly found his path blocked. At first, the images of her cold demeanor from previous weeks had plagued his descent into the recesses of his subconscious and even when he eventually managed to find his inner balance, her continued presence at the edges of his conscience perpetuated enough upheaval that his tenuous grasp was broken and he was left bobbing among the waves of his confused mind. If hers had been the only intrusion, he would not have been so disconcerted, but gradually, other faces started to emerge to the foreground to take their places beside her slight and flickering figure. It seemed callous indifference burned in all their eyes, their stances defensive and cool with distain. Hers was the only gaze not condemning him, though wariness had invaded those pools of russet brown. But her protectors, her friends…faced with an effective suspension from duty due to his direct actions, Spock didn't know how to proceed under their scrutiny, neither in his subconscious nor in his daily routine. The captain had made himself clear, many times over, and it was apparent now that ill will would be harbored indefinitely until the broken relationship was steered into calmer waters. It was simply a question of how to go about achieving that. And loathe as he was to admit it, Spock had come to the conclusion his ostracization from the crew rendered any request for assistance useless. It seemed he would have to go elsewhere for the advice he so desperately needed, even though the alternative of pondering the situation alone was suddenly much more appealing.

Switching on the low lights at his computer console, he sat down before the screen and made his decision. Hesitantly, he dialed the code for a subspace message. Once the channel was open, his fingers mechanically punched in the call digits; his rhythm faltered only once at the end before he forced his finger to depress the last button. He was confident in his assessment that the adrenaline coursing through his veins was attributable to the modicum of anxiety stirring deep within him as he waited for the dial tone to fade and the connection to complete. But perhaps this was a normal reaction. After all, it wasn't every day a grown Vulcan would turn to a parent in need of advice on Human behavior.

His attention was drawn to the display as the call flickered to life and his stomach sank as he realized his error. Staring back at him was his father, quite obviously recently roused from sleep. The windows behind him were dark, no streaks of light left in the skies of Arus-zal.

"Spock?" his father asked. "To what do I owe this late night communication?"

"Father, I apologize. I will certainly call back at a more reasonable hour—" he said, hastily.

"Nonsense." His father regarded him closely. "You must have been uncharacteristically distracted not to check the time charts before calling. What has happened?"

"Nothing...more precisely, nothing serious has happened in terms of injury. But it was foolish of me not to check the time charts. I can call again at a later time."

"Spock." The stern look in his father's eyes compounded with his knowing tone kept Spock from severing the connection. "I can see you are unharmed physically. Why do I have the distinct impression you are shirking the issue?" His father took a seat and steepled his fingers, peering at him contemplatively. An eyebrow rose, expectantly.

"I…I have been given an informal reprimand and been demoted to Inactive Reserve status." He waited silently for the disappointment to ring out from the speakers.

"And what could have happened to warrant such punishment from a crew you seemed so eager to rejoin?"

"I was not eager to rejoin the crew, exactly." Spock evaded his father's gaze. "I was pleased to be back aboard the _Enterprise_, but…"

"But duty was not your primary motivation," his father finished for him. "Yes, I knew Lieutenant Uhura was foremost on your mind the day you left. I take it this reprimand is directly related to her?"

"Yes," Spock nodded, looking up. "She is the reason I have contacted you. My absence these last years has changed her attitude towards me and now it seems…it seems I am in need of advice."

"Advice? I cannot guarantee I will be able to provide adequate advice, however you may continue with your queries."

"I had thought to ask about you and your relationship with…mother."

"I see." His father fell silent and seemed to scrutinize the display curiously.

"My previous encounters with Lieutenant Uhura have been…unpredictable, to say the least. I am at a loss of how to approach her, especially now when I have realized the extent to which the crew is protective of her. Their closed ranks around her have left me uncertain of how to proceed. Knowing of your prolonged contact with Humans, I thought you might have insights to share."

"Then perhaps it is best if I pose a few questions first." Spock felt a flutter of unease at this. He'd always been an exceedingly private individual, as were most Vulcans. To have his father inquiring about personal matters sent a prickling of nervousness through him. But if he were to get any answers to his predicament, he would answer any question his father asked. Nodding, he gave his silent permission for the older man to continue.

"You began your relationship with Lieutenant Uhura while you were both back at the Academy, correct?"

"Yes. That was where we first met."

"And at the time, were any third parties aware of your relationship?"

"Only two of Nyota's closest friends were privy to the information. I divulged the information to no one."

"Did you find this secrecy put strain on your rapport?" Sarek put the next question forth.

Spock cast back in his memories…those that had retained a good connotation from the earliest days of their time together. It was enough to soften the serious crinkles in the corners of his eyes. "I do not believe that was the case."

"Then it seems we have something in common. Your mother and I…our affairs were our own, kept in confidence and away from prying eyes, both on Earth and on Vulcan. We both learned isolation and loneliness away from our respective home planets, but our relationship bore an understanding, an acceptance if you will. The cultural differences we faced once together, I believe, helped solidify the connection we shared. Do you consider this to have been the case between yourself and Nyota?"

"Yes, I believe it was." Subconsciously, Spock registered his father's use of Nyota's first name and felt heartened he was not maintaining a fully clinical distance.

"And once the crew and chain of command became aware of your relationship?" Sarek's tone grew serious.

At this, Spock hesitated. The circumstances involving the disclosure of their relationship were intertwined with such tumultuous events—events that had very much so changed not only the course of history, but the lives of the two men in the conversation. But Spock also knew that to disregard the importance those days had had in all of their lives would be an insult to those no longer with them, so he continued, "It seemed…after the disaster on the _Narada_ and the destruction of Vulcan…no one had reason to object. From a Human perspective, I believe they were relieved to see a relationship such as ours."

"I do not think that is an exclusively Human perspective, Spock." His father's tone gently chided him. "Any relationship or union after such catastrophic events is looked upon with anticipation by your other heritage as well. It marks the continuation. But that is neither here nor there, as your relationship ended weeks after Vulcan met its demise. There was no continuation."

"No, there was not," Spock whispered.

"After years on Arus-zal, you decided to return. I will not pry into your reasons, for I believe they are of an utmost private and delicate nature, best shared with someone else, but given this conversation I believe I am correct in saying things did not unfold as you'd expected."

Spock nodded in affirmation once more.

"Had you underestimated her emotional state?"

He fought the urge to grimace from the embarrassment his father's question engendered. "In this case, I believe that 'underestimation' qualifies as a gross understatement."

"Would you care to expound upon your experience?"

"It appears I was in error when I assumed my departing words would bring her eventual comfort after initial pain; she did not move on as I had urged her to and was quite cool towards me upon my return. I do not wish to go into the details resulting in my status change on board. Suffice it to say, our last encounter brought unexpected consequences for us both. The aftershock and fallout caused the captain to make this decision of switching us both to Inactive status."

Sarek paused and it was clear his curiosity had been piqued, however he respected his son's right to privacy and continued along another line of questioning. "Since you are both listed as Inactive, am I to assume the captain has extended the time for you to find a solution to working in close proximity to her?"

"The captain has explicitly ordered I find a way to repair the damage my departure caused. Ideally, I would like to reconcile, but realize I am not the only party involved."

His father nodded sagely and said, "She been ordered to rebuild a working relationship with you as well."

"Yes. The problem lies in that our pre-mature efforts have failed miserably; the patience of our commanding officers is beginning to wane, I believe."

"Are you certain of their perspective?"

"I must admit, my time away from Humans has drastically altered my ability to perceive and comprehend their emotionally driven opinions, as illustrated well by my ineptitude in dealing with Nyota."

"It is something you must consider carefully. Based on what you have told me, I can only caution you. Human behavior is apt to be fickle and your former colleagues may continue to foster this ill will or mistrust. In my own experiences, I found it best only to consult with your mother in matters concerning our relationship, resolutely ignoring the judgments so willingly passed by her friends and family. This bond you formed years ago was between yourself and Nyota. Two individuals do not include an entire starship crew. You entered into this 'attachment,' if you will, together, without the consent of those around you; so where does the logic lie in allowing them to interfere with your continued association with her?"

"Following your reasoning, there is no logic."

"Precisely."

"But even if I manage to ignore all other people attempting to ingratiate themselves into this situation, how do I approach Nyota?"

"That, I cannot answer. First, it is not my place because we are separate individuals; secondly, you know far more about Nyota than I do. But if she is even half as perceptive as your mother was, she will have learned by now how to approach _you_, even in the face of her hurt. I would advise you to remain calm and confident, respect the crew, but studiously ignore their misplaced glares. In this case, you both have been set the task to put things to rights, therefore their input is neither warranted nor welcomed until openly asked for—something many Humans tend to forget in their emotional states. While this may seem callous and indifferent to them, it may be for the best. I am sure their intentions and hearts are in the right place if they are trying to protect her from further emotional distress, but the fact cannot be denied: you both started this relationship alone. It would only be right for you both to finish it."

At Spock's brief look of alarm, his father continued, "I do not necessarily mean it must come to an end, but it must be mutually shaped. That was the opportunity you denied her years ago. Now is the time to let her have it. When she does approach you, my advice is that you listen and afford her the time to explain."

"Personal experiences with mother?" Spock asked, knowing he was bordering on impertinence.

"To say the least," Sarek said, a sliver of fond remembrance enveloping his tone.

"Thank you, father. I will endeavor to keep your words in mind."

"You are welcome, Spock. Now, if that is all, would you mind letting an old man get what rest he can?" The question would have sounded brusque to any stranger's ears, but to Spock it signaled nothing but a gentle dismissal. His father would need time to find his own inner peace before reaching sleep tonight.

"No, I think I have sufficient information to continue meditating. My thanks again."

"Well then," Sarek said, gathering his robes around him and slowly standing. "Goodnight, Spock."

"Goodnight, father," Spock said, giving a small salute, his fingers splayed in the characteristic 'V.'

His father nodded once, gave him one more meaningful glance, and cut the transmission. As the connection severed and the display went blank the dim light in Spock's eyes faded. How long he sat there in contemplation, he didn't know. The silence that had evaded him through each meditation now pressed in from all corners of the darkened room and calmed his mind. It was so thick, when the chime to his quarters pierced through the blanket of stillness, he started. Fumbling for a light switch, he hastily made his way to the door, subliminally wondering who would stop by his chambers. He couldn't hide his surprise quickly enough when the door slid open.

"Good evening, Commander," said Nyota, looking up at him with confidence, even as her fingers chipped away at the black lacquer of one nail. "It seems you and I needed to have this conversation sooner or later. May I come in?"

* * *

A/N: Ugh. Might I add that I hate computer issues? I'm just glad I could get this chapter out on the same day, even if it's a few hours late! Hope it was enjoyable for everyone! Tune in (hopefully two weeks from now) for the continuation!

Before I forget: _Asenoi_: Vulcan fire pot/meditation candle. I think that was the only Vulcan I used in this chapter, but if I've missed something, please let me know!

And finally, to all my readers: thank you! Your responses have been overwhelming and I'm so thrilled you've taken the time to read and become invested. :) It's such a wonderful *warm fuzzies* feeling.


	18. 17: True Confessions & Tentative Grasps

**Klacha Por'sen** by WikedFae

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**Chapter Seventeen: True Confessions and Tentative Grasps**

"_It seems you and I needed to have this conversation sooner or later. May I come in?"_

The cuticle of her thumb was rapidly darkening and throbbing as her other hand masterfully divested the nail of its meticulously applied black coat while she waited for a response from the shocked Vulcan before her. His silence was unnerving, however it was not unexpected. Her anxiety grew as he lowered his head and looked back towards something in his chambers, but before she could ponder what he might be thinking, he'd raised his eyes to meet hers and stepped aside. She heaved a small sigh of relief that was quickly followed by a swift emotional punch to her gut when she realized she didn't know where to begin. His acquiescence, though not immediate, had been the greatest hurdle—or so she thought until now. Still, she squared her shoulders and strode past him into the dim living room, determined to finish what she had started.

Turning back to him once she reached the couch, she looked for a sign of permission to sit. She would carry out this conversation standing if needed, but given the subject matter she hoped he would still understand the human proclivity towards physical comfort in the face of emotional turmoil. She nodded her thanks when he consented and took a seat, perched primly on the edge of the couch.

An awkward silence filled the air between them as she cast about to find some way to ease into a conversation. Ideally, she'd thought he would have wanted to contribute to the discussion she'd attempted to start at the door, but the look in his hooded eyes spoke of great distraction. Perhaps this wasn't the best time after all. However, if he hadn't been prepared, he could have denied her entry—refused to speak with her at all for that matter. So she continued to study him as her mind whirred to find the right words. When he came to sit opposite her though, it seemed her next words had been chosen as she noted his stiff posture and halting movements.

"Have you not yet fully recovered?" she asked, worriedly.

"On the contrary, it appears I have. Dr. McCoy is no longer concerned about prolonged damage." His blunt phrasing made her grimace slightly, but she knew allowing herself to be dragged down into the memories of the incident would only hinder the progress they both needed to make; she would no longer tolerate the mulish and destructive behavior her inner critic condoned. Leonard's words resounded in her ears. _"…so the question is, what step are you going to take in response?"_ At least a step coming from the Human perspective, she decided.

"About what happened…I know how Vulcans disregard apologies, but I wanted to say I was sorry anyway. It was brash and uncalled for—the way I acted, I mean."

"Lieutenant—" he began, but she interrupted him before he could continue.

"Please," she said, knowing the risk she took by stopping him before he'd gotten a chance to express his view, but hating the rigidity with which he addressed her. "Please, don't couch this in military terminology."

He gently cleared his throat and looked at her pensively before saying, "Given the circumstances, I did not know if continuing to address you as Nyota would be welcomed."

"Oh." It took her a moment to process what he was implying, so shocked was she by his forethought; but now that she considered it, her given name on his tongue assumed an intimacy and familiarity that no longer existed. "No, I don't think I would have appreciated it," she said quietly. He nodded in confirmation but said nothing more. Was he waiting for her decision on what he should call her? She didn't want this conversation to be preceded by such stiff detachment, even if the goal was to work towards a professional relationship. Eventually she came to a decision and broke the silence. "I guess Uhura will work fine…it's what the rest of the crew calls me."

"Very well…Uhura," he replied, the syllables sounding strange in his deeper tones. While she expected to feel relief from the distance her last name brought with it, she was startled to also feel a creeping sadness. Spock had never before been just another crew member and to relegate him to such a position now seemed callous and wrong. But what else could she do? Glancing across the low table at him, she concluded he was experiencing the same internal conflict judging by his furrowed brow and slight frown. He was lost in thought.

Realizing they could spend all evening tumbling through memories, she needed to take this step soon—not only for herself, but for him. After all, she hadn't been the only one to live with his decision…even if she'd needed years to come to grips with the fact herself. She opened her mouth to speak, wanting to urge him to continue, when she stopped and uttered a small laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"I fail to see what is humorous, Uhura," he said, meeting her eyes.

"No, nothing's amusing. I just…I…well, what do I call you?"

Understanding blossomed in his eyes and he regarded her for a moment before answering. "You may call me Spock as you always have. And don't concern yourself with wondering if that will be too familiar. After my actions, I believe most of the crew will refrain from addressing me with anything other than strict formality."

"I guess we both have actions to regret."

"Yes, we do." He was not accusatory, nor was he simply stating facts as he saw them given the strange gleam in his eyes.

"Yes, well…" she drifted off, trying to find the thread of conversation once again. "I shouldn't have interrupted, Spock. Please continue."

"I had wanted to say that your apology, while not required, is accepted…under one condition."

She looked at him, the question brimming in her eyes while she waited with bated breath.

"That you accept mine."

The air burned in her lungs before she exhaled and softly asked, "And for what would you be apologizing?" Hope told her what he would say, but the ache of mistrust in her heart could no longer be banished by her voice alone.

"I would apologize for having reappeared so suddenly and giving you no warning. I would apologize for my wrongful assumptions that led to our last encounter. But mostly..." he sighed, "…mostly, I would apologize for the behavior I exhibited and how I acted towards you before I left for the colony. It was a miscalculation on my part and entirely unfair to you…for that I am sorry. I did not anticipate the magnitude with which my actions would injure you. Having returned…to have seen your life now without the brilliance I knew long ago…for that I am truly sorry." With that, he forced himself to hold her gaze steadily so she could see the sincerity of his statement.

She swallowed thickly around the lump in her throat before nodding slowly. "It's good to hear that, even if it is a bit late. It'll…it'll just take some time, alright? Before I can accept it…"

"That is understandable."

Silence swirled through the room as they both sat there, each tentatively feeling for the next patch of solid ground. Eventually he broke into her thoughts. "You said 'conversation' earlier. I do not believe simply apologizing constitutes a conversation."

A small smile fought its way onto her downturned face as she tried to conceal it from him. Wrestling her features back under control, she glanced back up and said, "You're right. I'd wanted to discuss our mutual predicament."

"It seems we have multiple mutual predicaments, so would you care to elaborate?"

She stared at him almost skeptically as she perceived a bit of sarcasm peeking through his dry tone. "I was referring to the fact neither of us has much to do aboard ship right now. I've been over this time and again and come to the conclusion I'd rather be sitting behind the console than sitting idle. I'd hoped you might want to express some thoughts on how best to move forward. That is," she added, "if you also intended on returning to duty quickly."

"While I do not deny the lack of work does make me restless, I would not want to rush to my post without knowing your feelings on the matter. Ideally, I would not want to return until we reach an amicable state, at the very least." She sensed he wanted to say more, but didn't pry. Instead she addressed what he had willingly revealed.

"Spock…the last few years have been spent with no one knowing my feelings about…about anything really. _I've_ been lucky to understand the emotions I've felt. Somehow I don't think reaching the point where you will understand how I've interpreted the situation will be conducive to returning to work quickly."

"And what of the consequences should one of us not be ready? What alternative do we face then?"

Uhura considered this carefully. Spock did have a valid point—she wouldn't put it past Jim to see through the ploy if she wasn't fully prepared to return to duty. If she bottled up her discomfort or hesitation around him, he'd know something wasn't right, especially after her open behavior the last few weeks. But if Spock wasn't ready? Given Leonard's earlier perceptiveness, she didn't trust _he_ wouldn't blow the whistle on them both, if only for the safety of the crew in an emergency situation. "So what do you propose? Five years is a long time…plenty has changed since you left for the colony. It's changed, possibly irrevocably…and I don't know if I have the strength to explain all my motivations to you. If you have questions, I'll try to answer them, but I don't even think hours, days, or weeks of discussing would result in a true understanding."

"Have you so little faith in your abilities as a linguist? Or simply too cynical of expectations regarding the Vulcan aversion towards emotion? If it is the latter, might I remind you of my heritage?"

"How could I forget?" she chuckled grimly. "It's not that my faith is lacking, but somehow I feel you and I weight words differently—to the point our comprehension of the others' intentions glance off each other, instead of meeting the same conclusion." She examined her hands, scrutinizing the damaged lacquer on one nail before speaking again. "Words are too fickle. At least at this point."

He seemed to shrink into himself briefly, his eyes searching about the room before suddenly widening. His lips parted as he mumbled a bit. She strained to hear what he was saying but could only make out a few words. "_…__a magnificent opportunity… it was never meant to be…but rather…*_" Instead of finishing his thought, he drifted off and unexpectedly pierced her with his stare. A fluttering in the pit of her stomach intensified when he refused to drop his gaze.

"Spock?" she asked, confused by his strange behavior. The gleam in his eyes was not threatening; rather it glimmered of anticipation, excitement—almost as if he had found a long-lost, coveted treasure. It was truly unnerving.

Trying again, she prompted, "Spock?"

"Words are too fickle."

"…Yes, that's what I just said," she said, unsure what to make of this seemingly unimportant fixation on her phrasing.

The curtain behind his eyes gave way a bit, enough for her to see the proverbial cogs spinning. "You could show me." Slowly, he gestured with his hand, extending his palm towards her a bit.

Her eyes widened as she realized what he was saying. "You can't be serious! After what that did to you—what I did to you—last time? And you want me to try it again?" Instinctively, she pulled her hands close and wrapped her arms around her torso.

He continued, softening his tone and retracting his hand, "While I would prefer not to experience the same scenario again…the sensation brought with it a unique understanding—the answer to an enigma. And given the sensitive nature of Betazoids, I highly doubt each experience you shared with your colleagues and friends on that planet was so intense, and even if it was, I suspect the transfer was tempered by the fact those people were not me. They were not the source of your pain, disappointment, or anger. Knowing you to be a rational person, I surmise logic would continue to dictate your reactions around those individuals. At least, I _knew_ you to be a rational person. But many things have changed in five years, as you said."

"You're right. I was a rational person. But do you call what I unleashed on you the product of a rational mind?"

"The reaction was not, but the actions leading to your abilities were…at the very least they were logical from a Vulcan perspective."

"Well, then I'm sorry to disappoint, but the last thing I thought I was doing was acting in a logical _Human_ manner by shutting down the way I did. If that really is the case—that it was logical for a Vulcan—then I'm sorry to disappoint again, but my humanity is working on dismantling all the walls I built—I hurt too many people for me to calmly accept my own peace of mind anymore."

"If I were fully Human, I believe I would say I envy you that…but I am not and am therefore incapable of voicing such an admission."

"And yet," she said, examining him shrewdly, "you've somehow managed to do just that." After a beat, she continued, "Why are you asking this of me?"

"I would like to be given the opportunity to see how much I have wronged you…let me see the life you led alone, even when I suggested you find another." The plea that was absent in his voice emerged from his eyes and she prickled at his audacity.

"And what makes you think you are entitled to see the aftermath of your departure? Feel my personal loss?" she asked, heatedly.

Quietly, he pondered his response before carefully uttering, "A wise man once told me that what two people start, they both must finish. I erred and started something. Not only that, but I did so without your mutual consent and left you in an awkward position. I gave you no recourse the moment I departed, left you no option and would not be convinced to reconsider my decision. I believed I had finished what I had started, but I was wrong in that assessment. I do not ask this due to an opinion of entitlement; rather I ask this in an effort to repair what I broke."

"And if what you broke can't be fixed?" she asked, staring daggers at him.

"Then I will respect that and be satisfied with the knowledge that I attempted to bring us both to a point where a decision could be reached mutually."

She thought for a moment. "If I do agree to this insane idea…and we do reach this so-called point…what happens if that is the end?"

He seemed to falter a bit before answering. "Then I will be thankful for the second opportunity you have given me." After a moment of silence, he prodded, "Does this mean you will do it?"

Deliberating, she bought herself a few seconds by worrying her lip and staring about the room. Feeling his eyes on her, she looked back towards him only to meet his dark orbs, the familiar and tranquil curtains back in place in the depths of his pupils. She sighed, thinking about his request. Maybe Leonard had been right. She'd taken the first step and not only had Spock followed her lead…he'd jumped ahead. She hadn't thought he would turn the tables on her so quickly and yet he had. Once again, it was up to her.

"Not here…and not now," she said, giving in against her better judgment.

"Then where would you suggest?" he asked, muted hope pervading his tone.

"If we're following your new motto of finishing things…how about the holodeck? It only seems fair. If you're trying to end something you started, then it's only right I end my error where it began."

He nodded silently.

Suddenly, Uhura was overwhelmed with the sense that whatever she had come here to accomplish that evening was done and as the minutes of silence ticked by, she became more and more convinced there was nothing left to say—at least for the time being.

Clearing her throat, she stood and stretched a bit before bidding him goodnight. "I think I'd best be on my way then."

"Of course," he said, rising from his seat.

They slowly made their way towards the door. As she made to leave, she turned to him and said, "Thank you for talking with me, Spock."

It looked as if he wanted to say something, but decided against it, simply nodding and looking at her in a peculiar manner. Composing himself a few seconds later, he asked, "What time should I meet you at the holodeck, Uhura?"

"Oh…umm…we could meet tomorrow? Say 1500?" she suggested, the shrill frequency of her voice betraying how nervous she was about the impending encounter.

"1500 would be acceptable," he said. "Goodnight then."

Distractedly, Uhura muttered a small, "Goodnight," as she exited his quarters and made her way towards the turbolift. Walking down the hallway, she could only shake her head and wonder just what kind of a predicament she'd gotten herself into this time.

* * *

A/N: A HUGE apology for not having this up last week. Real life came and decided to take a chomp out of both my free-time and subsequent creativity. So to all my patient readers: THANKS FOR HANGING IN THERE! I hope the slightly longer (and much awaited) chapter is satisfactory and meets your expectations. :)

*: Denotes previous text snippets spoken by Spock Prime eons ago.


	19. 18: Grove of Illumination

**Klacha Por'sen** by WikedFae

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**Chapter Eighteen: Grove of Illumination**

The heart beneath his lower ribs thudded steadily against his lungs as he forced himself to take deep breaths. The sturdy door to the holodeck stared blankly back at him, unaware of the flutter of anticipation passing through him. He glanced at the flashing amber light on the access console and consciously matched his breathing to the pulsing glow. Someone was in there. That was what the light announced. To any passing crewmember, the holodeck could be occupied by any number of people, but Spock knew better. He valiantly tried to force thoughts of gratitude from his mind before reaching out to the console. It wasn't that he was not grateful; rather, he instinctively knew that were he to enter the next chamber filled with such thoughts, she would undoubtedly discern the sentiments from one glance, one gesture—if not immediately, then eventually. His thankfulness at being given this rare glimpse had no place in the room beyond those doors, so he pushed the last stray thoughts to the boundaries of his mind and beyond and gathered his wits about him as he confidently pressed the button and requested entrance to her domain.

He watched as the doors slid open and was surprised at the sight that greeted him. The luminescent hologrid cast a soft glow on the lone figure; the room itself remained inactive. Cautiously stepping forwards, he approached her where she stood with her head bowed, shifting her weight from leg to leg. Looking around at the bare walls, he voiced his confusion. "You did not wish to load a program?"

When she brought her eyes up to meet his, he saw the residue of uncertainty clouding them but the same instance he recognized it, it vanished and she was gazing at him with renewed confidence.

"I didn't know what would be appropriate," she said.

"Perhaps," he said after a thoughtful pause, "it would be best if you chose a place that brings you comfort, somewhere unconnected to our direct relationship."

Nodding, she stepped back and started pacing slowly; she blinked a few times to refocus and Spock could almost see as her mind cast back into select memories, hopefully more pleasant than the ones she was about to relive. She seemed to come to a decision, walked over to the console by the exit arch, and rapidly punched in commands. At her final tap to the touch pad a shimmer ran the lengths of the walls and Spock watched with new-found respect for the technology as an entirely new world was created before his eyes. The dark ceiling burned away as the blaze of blue skies usurped it and gentle breezes moved pale pink clouds through the skies high above him. He felt a prickling sensation near his ankles and stepped back involuntarily as blades of thick grass and stalks of sturdy nettle-like plants erupted upwards from the uneven soil. The doors to the holodeck slid shut and the illusion quickly engulfed what remained of the cold metal; its conquest of the senses was complete.

Looking around, he spotted Uhura shaded beneath the leaves of a robust tree, a small smile spread across her features as she beheld her surroundings. Slowly picking his way towards her though the low thicket, he only asked one thing. "Betazed?"

Turning to face him, she nodded. "Yes, this is Betazed. A small forest on the outskirts of Rixx, to be precise. I found this path," she said, motioning slightly behind her, "the same week I arrived here."

"And you had departed the _Enterprise_, when?" he asked and added quietly, "I do not know this part of your journey, I am sorry to say."

Her eyes took on a saddened quality, no doubt the beginning of a sojourn on the way into a past she'd tried desperately to forget. "Almost four months after you'd left for Arus-zal, I requested sabbatical time from Jim. After six months planet-side I made arrangements to return to the ship," she said wistfully.

"You say that as if you had intended on staying longer."

"I returned because I thought I'd found what I'd gone in search of since you'd left." She fell silent, then suddenly burst into subdued and disbelieving laughter. "This is absolutely ridiculous!"

Spock felt his shoulders slump a bit as he interpreted her strange behavior. _This was ridiculous_, she'd said. _Perhaps it had been too much to hope for…maybe…_ He stepped back, clearing her path to the doorway, should she choose to leave and said, "If you do not feel prepared now we can postpone this until—"

"What? Oh, no Spock. I wasn't trying to…to—to worm my way out of this! I'm only laughing at myself. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause confusion," she said, quickly grabbing hold of both his attention and his arm. Peering up at him, she continued, "I've been a linguist for nearly a decade now and half of that time has been spent in virtual silence—at least where emotions were concerned. But now, when faced with expressing something like this? Words should be enough, but listening to myself…the words aren't nearly adequate. In fact, they sound preposterous and foreign to me. Especially coming from my mouth."

She retracted her hand from his arm, but he gently caught her by the wrist before she could fully pull away. "And what of our agreement last night?"

A spark of fear flashed in her eyes before being extinguished. "But…I'm a linguist…words are my life…they _should _be enough," she whispered.

"Uhura," he said softly, "you are implying your revered words will not do it justice. Last night you even proclaimed them to be too fickle. Now I have suggested a solution. Wherein does the problem lie?"

A wind wove through the thicket, rustling the leaves above and catching her ebony hair to dance with the tendrils. Nothing else moved as her uncertainty held them suspended in time.

Until…"Am I not allowed to be frightened? I don't know if I can _do_ this without hurting you."

A sense of relief washed over him as Spock realized she was just as concerned as he. It bolstered him enough to slowly bring her hand down, leaving their palms facing mere inches apart. "I would be a liar if I said I have no trepidation, but I asked this of you and you agreed. I would not have asked if I did not trust you." She still looked slightly apprehensive so he added, "And in the event something does go wrong, I know you will know what to do."

She looked at him questioningly.

"You will somehow manage to drag me to Sick-Bay and we will start over from the beginning once more."

She let out a small chuckle laced with tension, but her resolve had already started shining through the cracks of her hesitant demeanor. "Alright."

The small smile she shot him warmed his heart even as he felt a dull ache of worry and regret at what she would be reliving in a moment. What _they _would be reliving in a moment. Spock watched in anticipation as their hands inched closer. He glanced up in time to watch as Uhura's eyes slid shut, tightly squeezed as if she hoped all her willpower could fend off an impending rampage. "Uhura, what happened?" he asked as their palms met. His breathing hitched as he waited for the inevitable.

…Nothing. He felt nothing. His concern about facing another torrent of anger evaporated, leaving him with an odd floating sensation before he realized feeling no different had not been the goal either. His brow furrowed slightly in confusion as he searched for the slightest change. He looked at their hands, tightly entwined, and wondered what had gone wrong. A brown eye peeked open as Uhura squinted in his direction. Upon seeing him, she sighed in relief, elation briefly beaming from her face when he felt it. But as quickly as he noticed its presence, it faded into the background of his consciousness once more.

"Wait, Uhura. Do that again," he requested.

"Do what?" she asked, her own confusion growing.

"You were relieved. Try to feel that again." He turned his concentration inwards once he noticed Uhura's look of comprehension.

He waited…and waited…and—_there_! It was the most peculiar sensation, almost as if a small entity had taken up residence in his mind. It projected an odd sort of image; Spock got the intense impression he was suddenly the host to a spherical being that floated and undulated through his thoughts on its own whim. The discovery engendered hope and stoked the fires of his curiosity; his eyes crinkled at the corners as he allowed a modicum of emotion to play over his face. Uhura smiled again and squeezed his hand. Simultaneously, the entity within him pulsed and he felt a small chilling ripple rush through him. _Truly, curious_, he thought as he marveled at the small wonder. It was unlike anything he'd ever encountered before, yet it was also strangely familiar. But as he looked at Uhura, the brief excitement faded to be replaced with the unpleasant reality. A sadness had already begun to creep into her features; if he was to accompany her, he would try to do so as tactfully as possible.

"There. See? Already a different outcome from last time."

Whether she remained silent because she didn't trust herself or because she didn't trust the words she'd always relied upon, he didn't know; regardless, to turn back now seemed foolish.

"The night I left…the months following my departure…what happened to you?"

The sphere within him seemed to quiver.

"I can only ask. But I will wait." Awkward self-consciousness threatened to sabotage everything, but he held it in check and tore his gaze from hers. Sinking deep into his subconscious, he closed his eyes and observed as the tiny sphere indecisively floated back and forth. And in a flash, he felt himself hurtling towards a blinding light of memories, the sphere spinning wildly on its axis.

As quickly as it had begun, it stopped and Spock forced himself to breathe through the sharp pain that accompanied the sudden drop in momentum. The disorientation was only momentary, though, and when his head cleared he found himself staring into his own eyes. It was a memory. One of Uhura's emotional memories and here he was, standing in it, looking at himself. Glancing around, he recognized his surroundings. Uhura's old quarters. Then where was she if this was her memory? His question was answered when his memory-form spoke.

_"This __is__ the logical choice, my reasoning is sound. I have my duty to fulfill and you will have your chance at a strong and meaningful relationship with another. Know that I am sorry for the pain I am causing you, but in time you will come to understand my logic."* _His voice, younger and less weary, echoed through his ears and with a jolt he realized _he_ was standing where Uhura had been. Her response didn't echo through the memory, but he found he didn't need to hear it; he'd heard those words replay in his own dreams so often he could recite them himself. Turning his thoughts away from the scene playing out before him, he refocused on the sphere that had long since stopped spinning but had started to meander further from his mind. He sensed as it sank away when it suddenly lodged painfully in his chest. Simultaneously, he heard the terrible reverberating words he'd spoken in farewell. _"I am sorry I could not show the feelings you deserve to be shown. Live long...and may your shining light prosper. Goodbye...Nyota."*_

The sphere blossomed, a bloom of sorrow and confusion that cried and bled its petals and watched the dream be scattered by the winds of his departure. It shivered and throbbed, sending sobbing tides swelling throughout his body. The ache in his chest intensified and he sensed with abject horror as the sphere twisted and wrenched against itself, shreds of it being flung away in the process. When it stilled its vicious movements, it felt smaller than it had at the beginning. Concentrating on the memory once more, Spock was taken aback to see not the quarters he'd been expecting, but rather a blur of color. Snippets of hallway conversations flew past him, views of her communications station flashed before his eyes…eventually he became aware that the sphere had migrated once more. Its diminutive size made it easy to overlook as it floated through his body, but when it ended its journey back in his mind, he could no longer ignore it. While it had originally emitted a cool and soothing sensation as it hovered, its movements were now jarring and painful. No longer did it announce its viscous presence quietly; rather it grated through his mind like an ancient morning star, uncaring and sheltered within its hardened shell. It seemed to soften when familiar faces flickered before his eyes or when never-ending stretches of linguistic puzzles presented themselves, but its armor would spring back into place…and soon the faces started fading from the lonely carousel spinning before him. Slowly, everything around him began to darken. There was a lessening of pressure. He keenly felt the absence of the sphere as it disappeared and although it had only caused discomfort as it moved within him like dead weight in the end, he found he yearned for its return. The darkness closed in on him in a suffocating embrace and he was finally alone once more. Tentatively opening his eyes, he squinted in the bright sun of Betazed.

Uhura, pale and quiet, slowly extricated her hand from his and looked up at him. Her eyes were glassy, free of tears and brimming with determination. She held her head high and composed herself.

Stunned, he could only ask, "Uhura…is that why Humans call it a broken heart?" It even sounded childish to him, but what he had witnessed was so disconcerting…to think Humans capable of feeling something so powerful...it struck a chord of fear within him.

"I don't really know…but given what it felt like, I would assume so," she replied quietly.

"Then I am truly sorry. I never knew…I'd always assumed…" he fell into silent contemplation.

"…You always assumed what?" she asked, bringing him back to the present.

He hesitated, unwilling to voice his concern. It was unfounded and unexamined—a disquieting thought in its infancy—and not worth bringing to the foreground without more analysis. To put her at ease, he calmly said, "Nothing. It was an unfinished thought."

"Well, that's highly uncharacteristic of you," she commented.

He peered at her and pointed out the obvious while trying to find his footing. "Uhura, given what we have both just experienced, I believe I am entitled a few unfinished thoughts, Vulcan or not."

She nodded, conceding his point.

"I see your dilemma now," he said after a moment.

"Hmm?"

"Words aren't adequate enough. Even offering another apology, while I find it necessary, seems derisory now."

"Spock, it's fine…"

Ignoring her placating efforts, he reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. The warmth bleeding through her grey sweater comforted him more than hollowed out words. She was standing here before him having come through that ordeal…she was as strong as she'd ever been. True, she'd changed, but so had he. Then why was it he wanted things to go back to how they'd been? Why did what had started as a means to reconciliation suddenly drive his mind to search for paths back to person he had been five years before? Rationally, he knew returning to that emotional state wasn't possible, but why not try? The emptiness left behind by the sphere resounded harshly within him once again and against his better logical judgment, he gave in to the unspoken request of the humanity slowly emerging from the depths.

He bent his head down slightly to capture her attention. When she focused on him, he asked, "I know I have no right to request more from you, but would you consider doing this again? Not the same memories, obviously…" He scrutinized her closely as she debated her answer.

Caution sounded in her voice when she asked, "Why?"

"Because I am…intrigued…curious…and worried. You had every right to be angry with me, and as painful as the experience was, I found I could empathize. But this...this feeling…at this magnitude it is entirely alien to me. And I would assume you have experienced many other emotions which are unfamiliar to me. I am asking for the chance to learn again."

She looked at him appraisingly, carefully considering his request. "I suppose I'm the only one who can teach you now, right?"

"It would appear so."

"Right," she said, dusting imaginary lint from her pants before muttering, "Because I know so many other emotionally unstable people who locked-down and learned empathic techniques…that somehow affect Vulcans..."

"Am I to take that as a 'yes'?"

"Yes. But only because you didn't go into convulsions this time around." Another infinitesimal grin.

"Perhaps it would be best if we both spent some time recovering now," he said, motioning for her to precede him out of the grove and onto the flat plain.

"Should we meet here the day after tomorrow? Or did you have something else in mind?" she asked once they reached the rematerialized exit.

"The holodeck would be satisfactory," Spock replied, reigning in his wayward thoughts.

"Then I'll be seeing you." She was also showing signs of retreating into her own shell and while it was thinner than it had been in the previous weeks and, apparently, years, Spock gently caught her by the arm before it was too late to express his thoughts.

"Uhura, thank you. Not only for acquiescing to my latest request, but also for saying 'yes' to the first one."

She held his gaze intently before saying, "Then I should thank you as well. It's good to know you understand now, even if I still don't quite." Gingerly, she placed her hand over his where he held her arm. When he relinquished his hold, she stared at him a moment longer before retreating and making her way down the hall.

"Computer, end program." As the breezes of Betazed disappeared along with the lush foliage, Spock could only watch Uhura walk down the sterile corridor and fervently hoped true understanding would come in time for them both.

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A/N: Okay. I'm going to stop making promises with regards to updating from this point onwards. It's unfair to you, my lovely audience, and also to our beloved characters who tend to suffer instead of thrive at my hand when I have a pressing deadline. :/ I can shout my apologies from the mountaintops, but just like Spock in this chapter, I'm finding words to be inadequate. But to my wonderful readers, I thank you once again. I hope everyone had a pleasant holiday season and that 2011 brings with it good luck and joy! And please forgive my strange sentence constructions/wrong spellings in this chapter-I didn't find the time to beta it myself.

*: Dialogue from Chapter 1. Wow…uh, how long ago did I write that?


	20. 19: Found That Life was Duty

**Klacha Por'sen** by WikedFae

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**Chapter Nineteen: Found That Life Was Duty**

It felt good to breathe, Uhura realized. It didn't matter that the air throughout the ship had taken on a stale quality since the circulation filters malfunctioned. It still felt good. Staring unseeingly down at the cycling Reman symbols on her PADD, she leaned against the wall of the empty turbolift and let a soft smile play across her face. The gentle whir of gears pervaded the enclosed space, coaxing her into a contemplative state. _Breathe in, breathe out_. The motions were the same, but the invisible burden she'd carried for years had seemingly evaporated. _Breathe in, breathe out._ Relief. _Breathe in, breathe out._ Freedom. _Breathe in—_

"Now there's something you don't see every day," came the quiet exclamation next to her ear.

Startled, she whipped around and came face to face with the unexpected interloper. Kirk grinned back, unashamedly. Recognizing the triumph in his eyes, she humored him and smiled demurely.

Feigning shock, Kirk stepped back. "I don't believe it. The elusive Uhura smile, thought until recently to be extinct—and I'm lucky enough to see it twice," he jested. "What are the odds?"

She quickly composed herself and watched as his face fell along with hers. "Darn, I knew that'd jinx it," he muttered good-naturedly.

"I didn't expect to encounter you on this part of the ship, sir."

"Can't say the same for you. I stopped by your usual haunt just a few minutes ago. Surprised you weren't there."

"No, I took a break from that today." She didn't bother elaborating any further.

Kirk's smile returned slowly; she, in turn, stared back, the unspoken dare glistening in her eyes. "I take it it's safe to assume progress has been made in dealing with a certain crewmember?" he asked.

"You of all people should know, Captain, how dangerous a quality like presumptuousness can be," she shot back.

"Eh," he quipped, "the risk pays off eventually." With that, he leaned back and glanced at her with nonchalant expectation. "So?"

"Are you asking out of personal or professional interest?"

"Let's assume it's the former."

"In that case, I'll tell you that the first steps have been taken. We're going about this in a very pragmatic manner and have decided to proceed with caution."

"And I wouldn't have expected anything less from either of you," he said, straightening and turning to face the doors of the lift.

Examining him out of the corner of her eye though, Uhura knew the inquiry was far from over—the slight furrow of his brow would attest to that. "…And if I were to assume your asking was due to the latter?" she probed.

Instead of being rewarded with an answer, she watched as the captain stopped the lift at the next deck and motioned for her to accompany him out. "That's a discussion best had in a place with more discretion than can be found in a turbolift," he said quietly.

Concerned, Uhura fell into step slightly behind her captain. "Sir?"

Kirk threw her a look and had to do a double take, quickly saying, "Jeez Uhura, try not to look like I've just told you the ship has a bomb about to go off next to the warp coils—you _do _see the crewmembers in this hallway, right?"

Interpreting that to mean neither the ship nor the crew was in imminent danger, she tried to rearrange her features into something less anxious. An undignified snort came from Jim's direction.

"You don't have to look like someone's just died, either."

Giving an indignant huff of her own, she half-heartedly swatted his shoulder before returning her attention to the still unidentified, but serious situation her captain had brought up.

They walked onward in terse silence until they reached his office where she preceded him into the chambers. Turning around to face him, she asked grimly, "What's happened?"

Wordlessly, Kirk motioned for her to hand over her PADD. Relinquishing it, she watched as he transferred a new file onto it from the console at his desk. "Our Andorian allies relayed this message to Starfleet Command a few days ago."

Glancing down at the display of her PADD as he handed it back to her, she couldn't hide her bewilderment. Instead of the few symbols she'd been picking at for weeks now, the screen was inundated with hundreds of pictographs. Tearing her focus away from the mental onslaught, she looked at Kirk for an explanation only to find him offering her a seat.

As he sank wearily into his chair behind the desk, Uhura could only wonder just how bad this was going to be.

"Apparently, this is the collection of over three months worth of chatter. An Andorian station started picking up these weak signals and managed to back trace the origin. Someone on Remus has been quite busy the last few weeks. What we'd originally intercepted was just the tip of the iceberg, or so it seems."

Mulling this over, she asked, "Why haven't specialists on Andoria started working on a translation if they've had this information for so long?"

Kirk scoffed. "They've stated they would rather not get involved. It was pure coincidence their ball of gas was orbiting in the right place at the right time to catch the signals rolling off the far side of Remus, anyway." The look on his face told her in just how low a regard he held the Andorian Empire, even with their role in the Federation. He continued, "Seeing as we were the lucky bastards to intercept the original messages, headquarters have forwarded the bulk of the information on to us, but they've also got their own translators trying to break these pictographs wide open. I was hoping you might have had some luck with the first few doodles."

"Unfortunately, no," she sighed. "I've compiled a few lists of repeated characters, but so far this is beyond my comprehension. There's some tangential relationship to Romulan, but let's face it. Their language is relatively new to our databanks and Remus is a hidden world in comparison to Romulus. I, personally, don't remember a single lecture at the Academy about their culture, society or political structure—only a mention of their importance to the mining industry of their twin planet. Speaking of which, the Romulan authorities must have some idea what this is about, right?"

Kirk strafed a hand through his hair distractedly as he answered, "You would think they would, but Starfleet didn't indicate in the affirmative. Romulus has slowly been opening up to the Federation in terms of an intergalactic relationship, but their internal affairs are kept closely guarded. I'm not one for tip-toeing around an issue like this, but right now I'm inclined to follow orders—for once." He shot her a wry grin that faded all too quickly. "We'll do our own quiet investigating, and if it turns out to be nothing, hey, I mean, at least you get a chance to expand your linguistic repertoire."

Uhura didn't need her time on Betazed to realize the expression on Kirk's face meant he doubted this whole thing would turn out to be nothing. Things like this rarely ever turned out to be inconsequential. For now, though, she'd have to start working before any more answers came to light.

Clearing her throat, she said, "You want me to bring Spock in on this, don't you." There was no question in her voice.

He seemed disconcerted for a moment and fidgeted a bit before answering, "I'm not going to ask you to. And I'm not going to tell you to. You're under no obligation to go to him. I, in no uncertain terms, told you you two needed to work your personal relationship out, but extra pressure is something I'm sure won't be missed. It's good you've gotten somewhere. Bit of a relief, too, because I felt like such a Denebian slime devil needing to bring this Reman stuff up. Especially when I'd hinted to him the pictographs might be a good conversation starter."

"That was _you_?" she gasped. Silence filled the office for a beat before she burst out with a sharp laugh. "Oh, that just added another item to my list of why we never would have worked!"

He had the sense to look a little abashed before a sarcastic smirk usurped his features. "But honestly," he said, returning to the task at hand, "If you don't want to bring this to him, I understand. It's just a suggestion for if you get stuck. I know Leonard and I will be of no help, but whatever Starfleet sends me, I'll forward on to you."

"So does this mean I'm no longer listed as Inactive Reserve?" she asked, slightly hopeful.

He considered for a moment. Then, "…No."

"Oh," she said, faltering for a second.

Her slight disappointment must have shone on her face, because Kirk said, "You know I can't do that. Just because the two of you haven't killed each other yet doesn't mean anything. These messages are the only work-related information you'll have access to, until further notice." He bent his head slightly to catch her eye. "I'm sorry, you know."

"No, I understand. It's probably better this way anyway—nothing else to get in the way of my concentration," she said, collecting herself again and staring at the hundreds of symbols streaming across the display.

"I didn't give you this side assignment as an excuse to stop whatever you truce you've made with Spock, and I don't think I need to remind you the only way you'll get back onto active duty is by establishing a functional working relationship with him at the very least."

She shook her head, indicating no reminder was necessary.

"Good," he said. "That's about it from my end, I think. If anything else crops up, I'll find you. Any new communiqués from Starfleet Command regarding this matter will be available for you at a secure console in Communications."

"Thank you, sir." Getting up from her seat, she waited patiently while he shuffled through the digital papers on his desk.

He waved her off with a casual, "Dismissed," seconds later and she made her way to the door.

"Uhura," he called, looking up as the door hissed open.

"Yes?" she asked, doubling back.

"Nothing, it's just good to see a smile back on your face again," he said.

Gracing him with said smile, she nodded and left. Once out in the hallway, however, her expression slid into one that spoke of serious concentration. She took a breath. _Breathe in. Breathe out._ Somehow it didn't feel the same anymore. Ruing the absence of that tenuous freedom, she squared her shoulders and made her way back to her quarters, her mind full of new linguistic questions and her heart weighing the consequences of the actions she was about to take. Perhaps it would be better to wait a bit before broaching this topic with Spock.

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A/N: I LIIIIIIIVVVVE! I, like Uhura in this chapter, found that life was indeed duty. But I'm still here, trying to crawl out from underneath the Ligorian dragon-sized mound of dung Real Life decided to drop on me back in January. My most profound apologies to you, my lovely audience. Inspiration finally struck the right vein (i.e. NOT the one labeled "Thesis") and I've been sitting here spastically typing away. I'm sorry for any grammar typos, misspellings, etc. Sadly, I can't guarantee another chapter in two weeks as not a single word has been written yet, but I hope to not keep you all dangling another seven months…oh for the love of…no. That's just unacceptable from me as a writer. *Will try to do better next time!*


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